#its a complete calf skull with jaw and teeth

[carrioncrowprince]

cant wait for consistent warm weather to clean the skull i literally found on the side of a road

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Dead Meat.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!OC x Reader.

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Cannibalism, Kidnapping/Imprisonment, Force-Feeding, Mentions of Injury/Blood, and Slight Bondage.

You couldn’t feel anything below your left knee.

Well, you could barely feel anything anywhere, to be fair. Your fingertips were numb, your skull was hollow, and your mind spun in dull, idle circles – going nowhere and doing nothing. You could think if you tried to, string words together in a way that you were sure would’ve had a meaning if you ever managed to spit them out, but your tongue felt heavy and your jaw was locked in place, every part of you either too tense to move or too limp to control. It took you a moment to realize your eyes were open, that you were staring up, towards the ceiling, your attention centered vaguely on a motionless fan. Sunlight streamed through an open window, clouds of steam rose from an uncovered pot on the stovetop, and yet, your entire body felt cold, like all the warmth had been carved out of your veins and replaced with something else, something still. Something dead, if not for the fact that you would’ve felt so much better if you actually were.

He was there, too, rummaging through the pantry built into the far wall, humming in a way that made you want to cover your ears and curl into yourself. Clearly, you could see him when you forced yourself to sit up, as well as the wooden chair you'd been laid over, your hands bound to its arms with lengths of twisted fabric. You usually weren’t allowed to leave the cellar, not during the day, not with such improvised restraints. You usually didn’t like to leave the cellar, not while he was working. Not if it meant you’d have to watch.

You didn’t struggle, didn’t make any real effort to resist or escape, but you shifted, attempted to straighten your back, and your shoulder knocked against the back of the chair with a slight, stifled thud. It was quiet, barely audible, but it was enough to earn a glance over his shoulder, a breath of a laugh. You attempted to hold still, to shut your eyes and pretend you were still unconscious, but he was already starting towards you, already wearing that awful smile – more teeth than anything else.

“Finally,” Eve started, positioning himself behind you and resting his hands on your shoulders. There was a gentle squeeze, a kiss to your cheek, and he lingered there, looming over you like some dark, hungry thing. “You were supposed to wake up hours ago. I was beginning to worry that I’d cut a little too deep.”

Cutting. Slicing. Cooking. His hair was tied back, and he was wearing that apron, the one covered in dark stains and fresh, tacky blotches. You glanced towards the kitchen counter, to the wooden cutting-boards stocked with slabs of raw meat, then downward, to your lap, to your legs. You let out a small, shallow sigh when you saw that your left calf was still attached to you, albeit partially obscured, everything below your knee wrapped completely in white cloth. Bandages, you realized, with more thought than it should've taken, specks of red and pink just beginning to soak through. You couldn’t feel any of it, the injury numbed beyond all types of pain, but you couldn’t stop yourself from cringing, from adverting your eyes as your throat went dry and you vision began to blur. He’d have to clean the wound, later on, and you could only hope that you wouldn’t have to be awake when he did.

His gaze flickering over your expression, Eve let out another shallow laugh, leaning down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You could feel stubble rubbing against your skin, accompanied by warm breath and another kiss, this one lingering a second longer than the last. “Poor baby. I tried to be gentle, but you toss and turn so much in your sleep – I might’ve gotten a little rougher than I meant to.” His tone was sympathetic, affectionate, but both layered on so heavily, so thickly, you couldn’t take it as anything but a patronizing coo, meant to make you feel small and weak and little else. He was never harsh with you, never so much as raised his voice, but you thought you might’ve preferred it if he had been quick to anger, if all he ever did was lash out. At least then, he wouldn't bother trying to talk to you. “It doesn’t hurt too badly, does it?”

You started to shake your head, but he caught your chin. “Ah, ah – use your words. I need to hear your pretty voice.”

You swallowed, dryly. The words sounded distant, even to you, as weak and as fragile as he must’ve thought you were. “I… It doesn’t. I’m alright.”

“That’s perfect. The last thing I want is to cause you any pain, love.” You felt Eve lift his head, saw his gaze drift to your injured leg. You went stiff before you could stop yourself, but he only laughed, letting you go and moving back towards the counter, as he spoke. “Don’t worry, that’s all I’m going to take right now. That’s where a lot of people go wrong with this kind of thing—”

In the corner of your eye, you watched him pick up a meat clever that looked a little too small in his hands, its blade already covered in red, wet blood. You knew that you shouldn’t look, that it’d only make you feel worse, but it took so much effort to move, and it was so difficult to think, and you couldn’t imagine tearing yourself away, even as he began to cut into raw muscle and tissue. It hurt in a vague, abstract way – all ache and no catharsis. You half-expected there to be stabbing pangs, a fresh burning somewhere in your injured leg, but there was nothing, absolute void. It was dead meat, something that’d already been torn off and severed from its source. It didn’t belong to you, anymore. What he did to it didn’t matter.

Or, that was what you were trying to tell yourself, at least. You probably could've believed it, if you'd had a little more time.

“They rush. They take too much from too many places, and they expect it all to be the same.” Fuck, he was talking about that again. If you hadn't known any better, you would've said that was the part he really liked – the aesthetics of his grisly hobby, the idea that he was somehow better than the monsters and maniacs who bathed in blood and kept coolers packed to bursting with buckets of viscera and rotting corpses hung on rusting hooks. When he first took you, when you were still delusional enough to think that there was anything you could do to make him let you go, he’d spend hours ranting about it, holding you to his broad chest as he rambled on and on about how you shouldn’t be afraid, about how he was going to savor you for as long as he possibly could. As if that made him any less of a sadist. As if you’d find it comforting to know he was going to tear you apart, piece from piece, and keep you alive long enough to do it over, and over, and over again. “They don’t know how to pace themselves. They don’t have any self-restraint. They wouldn’t love you, not like I do, and if you were stuck with one of them…” He trailed off with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t think about that. Stress spoils the taste.”

He bent down, fished a cast-iron pan out of a cabinet with a padlock hanging from the handle, waiting to be used on another closet door, another empty meat locker. The chill had thawed, and the kitchen’s heat was beginning to get to you, to work its way under your skin and make your mind that much uncooperative. Minutes later than you should’ve, you forced your eyes to shut and let your head roll back to rest against the chair’s spine. You were aware of your mouth opening, but the sound of your voice was as surprising to you as must’ve been to him. “Are you going to kill me?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin teeth and little else. “Need a little more sleep? I just told you – I’m not that wasteful."

“That’s not what I—” The faint click of a gas burner switching on, the bubbling pop of meat falling into boiling oil. You dug your nails into the chair's arms, doing what little you could to hold yourself steady. “Are you ever going to kill me? Or, am I just going to be here until die, and you’ll be cutting me up forever, and—”

“Don’t push yourself.” His tone was light, but the order was strict. You closed your mouth instantly, gritting your teeth and locking your jaw into place. “Do you want to know why I can’t hurt you, darling?”

He did hurt you. He hurt you by keeping you here. He hurt you by doing this. You were missing a piece of your fucking leg because he couldn’t stop hurting you.

But, you only nodded, staying silent for a moment before catching yourself and correcting your mistake. “I do.”

He didn’t respond to that, not at first. A small, smart part of you hoped that he never would.

There was another round of seasoning, another minute or two of cooking and cutting and mutilating what he didn’t have the right to touch. By the time he finished, what little strength you had was already beginning to wane, making it near-impossible to do anything more than blink as he pulled another chair up in front of you, as he held something up to your pursed lips. A strip of meat, lodged on the end of a sleek steak knife. Seared, but barely. Just a few seconds past bloody.

Immediately, bile rose up in your throat. A new wave of nausea washed over you. If you weren’t strapped down, you might’ve collapsed, let your body put you out of your misery before your mind could force it to. “Get away from me.”

“Don’t be stubborn. I’m just giving you what you asked for.” He was always so calm. He was always so patient. You wished, more desperately than you’d ever wished for anything, that he’d snap, falter, leave you little more than a body to be gutted and dismembered. You wished that he’d just get it over with. You wished that he’d even try to be that nice. “Open up, baby. This will only be as bad as you make it.”

You wished he would kill you. You wished he would kill you. You wished he would kill you. “Don’t— No, no, don’t touch—”

He didn’t give you a chance to finish. The blade cut into your bottom lip and scraped against your teeth as he shoved it into your open mouth, drawing it back just as quickly before dropping it altogether, letting it clatter to the floor. You tried to spit the meat (because it had to be meat, because it couldn't be anything else) out, but his palm was already plastered over your mouth, and he was already hushing you, too, already laughing as he took you by the shoulder and coaxed you forward, as he murmured meaningless nothings. You gagged, your body lurching forward, but he only held you still, only smiled. Only watched on, drank in your revulsion and your terror like a fine wine, hand-brewed and aged to perfection.

You didn’t chew. You didn't think. You swallowed it whole, choked the meat down despite the way it clawed at the inside of your throat, despite the way you heaved when it was over, when Eve had gotten what he wanted. “You did so good. You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” When you stopped moving, your body going completely limp, he pulled back just far enough to cup your face, to lean towards you. “You’re the best fucking thing I’ve ever had. That’s why I’m never going to use you up. That’s why I’m going to take care of you. That’s why I have to love you, like this.” He kissed the top of your head, lingering seconds longer than he absolutely had to. “You understand, don’t you?”

You nodded, but all you could taste was ash and blood.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Genji Heavy Industries (Part 10) No More Sacrifices

I love the MC. I love the MC... I love the MC

No one can stand upright within the realm of Yanling Majesty unless they have permission from the user himself. The person in the field must bear tens or even hundreds of times their normal weight. Blood will break through the skin from below the body and the brain is severely deprived of blood. In an effort to avoid blood loss to the brain, those affected will kneel or bow low to the ground. But even bowing, they may not be able to survive. As the power of Majesty continues to rise, the user can make anyone's bones crack and flatten their bodies to the ground. Although it is called "Majesty", it is not a kingly conquest at all, but rather an overwhelming super-gravity applied to the opponent, slowly and mercilessly crushing him. 

This was Chisei’s plan, concentrating the group of deadpool in the center of the hall, forcibly overpowering them with the Majesty, and then setting them on fire. The fires were so hot that they would explode in a few minutes, and the heat and shockwaves would turn the floor into a fire pit. Finally, it was time for the fire to come out. Chu Zihang grabbed the flamethrower from Caesar’s back, and the ten-meter-long flame swept over the oil-soaked deadpool. 

Immediately, the blaze rose ten feet high. The deadpool were completely immobilized and could only endure the burning. Pale faces burning, black hair burning, the deadpool group’s wails were deafening. Your headache returns at the noise. 

"Quick ...... go!" Chisei Gen turned you by your shoulders and shoved you hard toward the elevator shaft before collapsing in a pool of blood. 

You gasp. “Sequelae!” 

But before you can go to help him, Chu Zihang has beaten you to it and shoves you again to the elevator. “Go!”

Everything in you rebels! “No!” This was just like when Renata pushed you over the cliff! You’re arms stiffen at your sides and your hands balled into fists. “No!”

Chu Zihang returned his sword to his hip, pounced on Chisei, and pulled him up from the pool of blood to take a look at his face. Zihang was greatly alarmed. Chisei’s heart was frantically beating to maintain his faltering body, and purple-black capillaries emerged from the surface of the skin. It is no wonder Chisei Gen decided to use this super Yanling after so much delay. This Yanling would put a great burden on his body. “Majesty” will drain the entire life force of the user in an instant. 

The more high-end Yanling are, the more they burden the body. The mythical "Rhine", once released, will kill the user, who can only survive for a fraction of a second in his own domain. 

"Go!" Chisei said again. 

Chu Zihang suddenly understood the meaning of Chisei’s words. Once Chisei was too exhausted to support his power, the field of Majesty would also collapse. The deadpool will once again gain the ability to move! 

You brandish the claw of the dead female Deadpool and fall on the still wriggling enemy beasts in a frenzy to disable them. But they were already starting to recover! Your face is covered in dried black blood and soot, but your tears are coming so quickly that they make pale tracks on your face. Your face was twisted like a demon’s. You weren’t angry at Chisei or Chu Zihang or even Caesar for the situation. It was these Deadpool who were now trying to make your friends tell you you have to go. You have to live! You have to leave them behind!

You were sick of hearing it and for provoking those words to be uttered, these Deadpool would pay!

Chu Zihang didn't even have to think about it to know that a Deadpool was pouncing on his back. Caesar found it and suppressed it with firepower. He grabbed Chisei and rolled to the ground to dodge as a giant flaming serpent fell from above, a deadly lunge by a Deadpool who had just been freed from the realm of Majesty. Chu Zihang completely ignored the fact that he was now on fire.

Its sharp claws gripped Chisei's calf, and Chu Zihang heard the slight sound of bones twisting. The death servitor’s grip was so strong that it could have left handprints on steel. But then it fell limp. 

You’re standing on the Deadpool's back, the claw dagger lodged under its skull. You wrench the claw from its neck bones. “Take the damn sword and help me!”

Chu Zihang suddenly felt an additional thing in his hand, the hilt of Onimaru! At the key moment, Chisei had handed Chu Zihang his alchemy sword! Zihang rolled over and leaped up, swinging the blade into the Deadpool's chest. You leap out of the way, while Chu Zihang finished it off by drawing the last Sten submachine gun firing into its heart point blank.

There were more deadpool rising. Your eyes are a blazing golden terror as you dash through the piles of flaming bodies towards them with the claw dagger. In the dark, you can see the stirring deadpool's eyes opening as the field collapses. Those eyes have become your targets. Your laser pointer.

Channeling the fury of the female deadpool chasing the red dot, you dart from one body to the next, not planning on killing them -- that would take too long -- but severing their spinal cords at the neck. If you were even partially successful, they wouldn’t be able to crawl out in time to escape burning to death. Caesar and Chu Zihang had seen your cold killer’s aura before, but this aura was blazing hot like the sun. Chu Zihang had seen a glimpse of your fighting style before in Chizuru, when you anticipated his attack and cut off his approach to you by splitting the street in half with a wall of heat, all without looking up to confirm he was coming. Then when he fell from the sky, you were again ready, lifting up a piece of concrete to make him dodge and then ruining his landing with an earth tremor.

You were good at shooting and hand to hand combat, but your true power was your ability to predict the moves of the enemy and take advantage of them. With the snake, it was simple. Pinned to the ground, they could only rise up or roll over. Even as they thrashed to get at you, you simply followed their movement, like a homing beacon locked onto the back of their head and, once you’d severed their spinal cord, you moved on to where you were already keeping sight of the next target’s movements. You did all this without pausing. Within seconds, ten deadpool who had been released were suppressed by your knife the moment they started to recover. It only took 4 or 5 seconds for each one.

"Carry this guy to the elevator!" Caesar ran to Chu Zihang's side, the Western Watch firing in quick succession to release a cloud of mercury smoke. “MC! Let’s go!”

You nod and turn to flee. Suddenly you are hit with a blinding pain that makes you cry out. You turn to see the rising body of the deadpool that raked you across the back with its mighty claws. You knew where it had been positioned. It it had been lying there, eyes closed, seemingly already dead or subdued. It was lying alright. It was lying to you. Now its body was already in an S-curve, pulled back into striking position.

The roaring trap-jaw of razor sharp teeth thrusts forward and fills your vision but then it’s sent flying back by a barrage from Caesar! Caesar let’s out a furious snarl as he unloads the last of his machine gun into the monster. The gun smokes and sizzles a second before he realizes he’s out and then he tosses it to the side and runs to you. He picks you up and carries you towards the elevator shaft.

Neither of you say anything as you rush towards the elevator shaft. The eyes of the remaining deadpool are like Will o’ the wisps, dancing in dark patches between the flames.

Chu Zihang carried Chisei on his shoulders and moved towards the elevator. All of you were exhausted, your hearts were beating so violently that it seemed your chests were going to crack. 

Then the ground shook. A sturdy death servitor gallops through the mercury fumes created by explosive shells, pulling itself along by its upper body. Its upper body is sturdy like a horse or a bear. Before mutating into a death servitor, it was probably a sturdy man. The dragon blood stimulated its muscle growth. Its shoulders are freakishly bulging. It’s arm span is long like a gorilla's. It has the most amazing snowy white swords in its hands! It picked up two long blades from the ones Chu Zihang had discarded in the fire, and approached in the form of a sword dancing snake god. In known records, there is no shortage of Deadpool using weapons. If they had weapons skills as humans, that memory can be inherited by the Deadpool. But such sophisticated knife skills had never been seen before by anyone in the team.  Its snake body is enchantingly twisted, double swords flowing around the body, forming a flawless defense. 

Caesar assessed the situation for a moment and set you down. “Go to the elevator.”

“No..No… No…” You couldn’t say anything more. Exhaustion reared its ugly head again and this time combined with blood loss and pain. It was happening again! When would he stop trying to sacrifice himself?

“MC. Look at me.” 

You look at him. His eyes were as blue as Renata’s. 

But instead of saying live, he said, “I promise I’ll come back.”

“Okay…” You say, but inside you still burned. When he saw your seeming submission to his order, he let you go. But you are done with sacrifices. You weren’t leaving without all of your friends. Your hands tighten around the smooth metal of the laser sight in your pocket.

Caesar was far too busy with his own issues to realize that, for this whole battle, you hadn’t used any of the ammunition that you had loaded onto your belt. You’d spent some shots to free the claw from the Deadpool female and use it as a dagger. You’d fired your gun to escape from the deadpool that trapped you. But after that, you hadn’t fired a single shot.

You swing the laser sight into the eyes of the Deadpool swordsman. The laser light sends excruciating pain through its skull and is too blinding to ignore. He rears back and gives a loud shout. You take off running, raise your pistol and start unloading all the ammunition you had on your person.

“MC!” Caesar yelled.

“Save the romantic fluff for your fiance, lover boy!” You skid to a halt, shining the light into the furious monster’s eyes. You spread out your arms and twitch your fingers in the universal sign of “come at me”

Your back hurt. God, it hurt. You could feel the blood running down and you knew your time was limited. But you would much rather spend your remaining time and energy helping Caesar escape than being a limp doll against the wall.

Caesar pulled out the antique shotgun from behind his back. The length of the barrel is absolutely amazing. It’s longer than you are tall! Where was he hiding that? In a pocket dimension? Your wide eyed stare made the Deadpool turn around, just in time for him to look directly down the barrel of that bad boy. 

The shotgun fired as usual with a loud bang. The force of the large caliber bullet was so great that you had to jump out of the way when the snake man was blasted into the fire. Caesar was jolted backwards by the recoil. You run over to him, cackling like the naughty girl you were to help him up.

"What a time to play with knives and be cool." Caesar dropped his antique shotgun and drew his next weapon, an ordinary shot gun. "You're a fucking funny character, aren't you?" 

The ground shook again as a huge shadow fell from above. It was a steel beam weighing over a dozen tons that plunged several inches into the floor like a spear of a god, spilling debris in a pile taller than you. The ceiling and walls were cracking. Another aftershock! Zigzagging cracks spread fast on the inner walls, and the laminated steel floor slab could not withstand the earthquake. The intensity of this round of shock waves exceeded 8.0. Flames in all directions, glare, and dust blurred your vision. The wooden statues of Buddha hanging on the walls turned into a blaze of fire and fell, and the black iron shrines were burned red. All of these had been carried from the old shrine of the Hydra family, relics that had been handed down for thousands of years… their lifespan ended today. 

You finally reached the elevator door. The shockwave had not only just cracked the floor and walls, but it had broken the steel beam above the elevator door and blocked it.

The only way out was gone. Royal Fire could not destroy the walls of the Genji Heavy Industries building. In a few minutes, the fire of the explosion would sweep through the floor, and you would end up being buried with the deadpool. Your heart sank.

Caesar stood by your side and gave the debris an annoyed kick. 

"I never thought I would die by jumping into the oven in the middle of a feast of roasted snakes ......" 

"Then the way you planned your death is...?" Chu Zihang pulled out his sword at his waist. 

"I was going to have a band and girls in sexy dresses, by a champagne-colored pool, with the sky littered with fireworks, and reporters from all over the world waiting outside my house for Caesar Gattuso's death." 

Chisei suddenly stood up bracing against Chu Zihang's shoulders. He limped to one side and tried to press the down button of the freight elevator. The button lit up, the numbers above the elevator doors slowly changed, and the freight elevator was actually working! 

This slow-running old elevator actually survived the earthquake! 

"So that scum Lu Mingfei is okay too!" Caesar's voice was filled with relief. 

“I’m going to tell him you said that.” You mumble weakly.

Chu Zihang cut off a piece of C4 explosive and inserted the fuse after adhering it to the elevator door. He dashed to you, embracing you in a hug and ignoring your cry of pain. With a loud boom, the aluminum door with steel plates embedded inside was blown open. You were trembling but you understood why he shielded you, you weren’t able to escape fast enough.

"Great, but those things seem to want to take the elevator too." Caesar turned his head to look behind him. 

The "sizzling" sound of scales on marble tile and the sound of crying babies was approaching, and even Chu Zihang and Chisei Gen could hear it. In the flames and black smoke, a faintly bright snake shadow appeared. Those burning death servitors actually forced themselves to endure the pain of crawling over. Those who had their spines severed still screamed as though they could try to reach you by voice.  These deadpool had the ability to sense your location by vibration and you’d just given yourself away. The deadpool who wielded two swords twisted his body enchantingly, looking very much like the snake god Naga of Indian mythology. Its twin swords burned red in the fire, stirring up a large wind. Caesar's large caliber lead bullet did not inflict a fatal wound on it. 

"Your blood!" Chu Zihang whispered, "They smell the blood on you!" 

Caesar suddenly realized. The deadpool’s thirst for blood and killing was rooted deep in their minds, and they would not let go even in death. Chisei Gen’s blood was the most delicious thing they coveted. Chisei had been wounded in the shoulder before, in the elevator shaft. The strong smell of burning could not hide the smell from them. 

"Strip his armor off and throw it into the fire!" Caesar yelled low. 

"I'm afraid it's useless. The Deadpool will immediately find out that it's just a piece of armor and continue exploring this way." Chu Zihang quickly dismantled the straps of the armor, the chest and then the shoulders, from Chisei’s body.

"In the Trieste, you were the first out of the cabin. Now leave the rest to me. Call me as soon as the elevator arrives, I'll get out of the fire as soon as possible. Give me cover fire." Chu Zihang is expressionless, never one to shy away from dangerous work.

You try to rise and find that the pain crashing through your body was too much and lower back to the ground. 

Chu Zihang watches you struggle with no words.

You huff. “Fine.”

He nodded and unloaded a bullet from the shotgun, cut open the plastic cartridge case, and spilled the gunpowder on Chisei's shoulder. Caesar had already lit his cigar and pressed it hard into the wound. When the flames rose, even Chisei's face spasmed. The pain of burning nerve ends was enough to make the average person faint. The burn temporarily blocked the blood vessels and dried up the blood on the surface of the wound, thus removing the smell of blood from the body of Chisei. Chu Zihang put away the shotgun in the windbreaker, pulled out the sword. He’s not as good as you or Caesar at firearms. He’s far more trustworthy with a blade.

"Hey." Chisei said. 

Chu Zihang twisted his head, to catch Onimaru which he tossed to him: "Use this blade to cut through the bones of the deadpool." 

Chu Zihang nodded slightly, and did not say thank you. He suddenly sprang into the fire, the hem of his coat flapping like the wings of a great eagle. The swarm of deadpool reacted swiftly, and the sound of snaking went after Chu Zihang.

[bluesfortheredj]

“You look beautiful,” Ben sighs as you appear at the door in a long sleeved, maxi length flowing gown.

“Thank you,” you blush, “so do you.”

He holds out his hand for you to take and you manage to keep a hold of it as you turn back to shut and lock the front door behind you, then he leads you to his car that was parked along the curb by your block of flats.

“Your chariot awaits,” he grins as he opens up the passenger door for you and helps you in.

It was all very romantic, he’d pulled out all the stops for your tenth date, and you were quickly falling for him and his charm. He was very well dressed in a navy suit with black shoes that looked as if they’d been freshly polished and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he slid into the driver’s seat and clipped his belt into place.

“Everything okay?” he asks as he looks over to see you staring at him.

“Yeah, yeah, great,” you reply nervously as you roll the fabric of your dress between your thumb and forefinger to try and calm yourself.

“Excellent, let’s get going then,” he smiles before starting up the car, “it’s just a little get together with a few friends, I don’t know why they enforced this silly dress code, think it’s a theme or something.”

“Right, yeah, it’s alright, gave me a chance to dress up which I don’t normally do,” you chuckle.

Meeting his friends was your first big milestone and naturally the nerves had set in as soon as you woke up this morning, only getting progressively worse throughout the day which had now resulted in you feeling mostly quite nauseous.

It was quite nice to have en excuse to dress up though, and you did have the perfect dress which was actually still hanging in your wardrobe, but you had to choose this one instead to make sure that every artwork that was inked upon your skin was hidden. It’s not that you were ashamed of your tattoos, it’s just that past boyfriends hadn’t taken to them well and had made you cover them up, and you weren’t quite ready to let Ben see them yet out of the slight fear that he’d feel the same.

“You really do look gorgeous,” Ben says as you pull up outside the fancy restaurant where a private dining room had been hired for the party.

“Thank you,” you reply timidly, “and you look very handsome in that suit.”

“This old thing?” he smirks, “just something I threw on at the last minute.”

“As if,” you laugh as you get out of the car.

Ben bends his elbow for you to link your arm through his and you walk in together side by side so that when you meet his friends, he’s right there to support you. As you walk through the door to the private dining room almost everyone turns your way, but when they all break into smiles your stomach relaxes and as you greet each one in turn, you begin to feel more at ease.

Eventually you all take your seats around the table and you’re between Ben and his best friend’s girlfriend who is absolutely lovely and has a trail of colourful inked flowers running down the top of her arm that you can’t stop staring at.

“How about you show me yours?” she smiles as she catches you gazing at the art.

“I don’t… I…”

“You do! I can tell,” she grins, “so come on, show me yours.”

“Show her your what?” Ben interjects after hearing the hushed conversation next to him.

“Tattoos,” Sarah smiles, completely unaware that Ben had absolutely no idea about yours.

“Tatt- what?!” Ben stutters in confusion.

Sarah gasps and presses her hand flat against her mouth as she looks at you with deep, apologetic eyes, and you smile at her in reassurance that it was okay.

“Don’t worry,” you chuckle, then turn to face Ben and take a deep breath, “I have some hidden ink.”

“Why is it hidden?”

“Some people have made me feel bad about having them in the past and I didn’t want you to be put off,” you answer honestly.

“Put off?!” Ben scoffs, “as if. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours… I have a couple of hidden ones myself.”

“You do?”

“Uh-huh,” he nods, “come on, while everyone’s distracted...”

He grabs your hand, stands up and pulls you from your chair as well, rushing from the dining room to the nearby toilets across the hall and he bundles you into the disabled loo before locking the door behind you both with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“I’ll go first,” he says, shrugging off his jacket and undoing his shirt so he could show you two on his upper arms, “see? That one is my most recent one and probably my favourite out of the two.”

You run your fingers over the black lines as you study the details of the design then look up at him with a smile.

“Stunning,” you exhale.

“Your turn now,” he grins as he pulls his shirt back on and buttons it up.

“Well, where shall I start?” you ask, much to his intrigue.

“Start from the bottom and work your way up,” he grins with an expectant glint in his eye.

He perches himself on the hand rail with his arms folded across his chest as he watches you lift your dress up high enough to show you the large arrangement of flowers on the side of your left thigh, then the band of intricate mandala style design that curved its way around your thigh and met either side of two large skulls at the front, and the diamond shaped desert scene on your right calf.

“Bloody hell,” Ben gasps as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, “they’re… absolutely beautiful.”

He squats down in front of you and places a hand on either side of your right thigh to get a better look at the large stag skull that sat atop a human skull, then his thumb follows the band of lace like ink as far as he can go without turning you around.

“How many hours did that one take?” he asks, his eyes not leaving the art on your skin.

“Four in total over two sittings.”

“You don’t do things by half, do you?” he chuckles.

“Nope!”

“Show me more,” he says as he looks up at you with a wanting gaze.

He stands and backs off a couple of steps then you turn around and point to the zip of your dress that runs from the top of your neck to the base of your spine, and he willingly unzips it for you so you can slide your arms out to show the two family inspired ones on the inside of your upper arms, the music themed one on the outside of your left arm, the small band logo on the back of your neck, the small circle of paradise on your right shoulder, and finally the three flowers that sit on the left hand side of your chest.

“I… Wow...” he says in shock as his jaw hangs low in surprise.

He turns you around as he makes sure to study each one carefully and you stand there with a growing smile as he makes appreciative gasps.

“So, when exactly were you going to tell me you were such badass?” he grins as he helps you pull your dress on properly and zips it up.

You laugh at his question and shake your head as you make your way back to the table; no one particularly worried that you disappeared for a few minutes.

“Seriously though, (Y/N), I think I’m going to have to check your whole body later to make sure there aren’t any more you’re hiding...” he whispers as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth.

my idea was an imagine for Ben where the reader has a few tattoos (big one on her hip, thigh, inner arm, etc.) and in their first month or two of dating she always keeps them hidden because she’s worried he might think she’s “butch” or “chavvy” or they’re ugly or something.

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @itisjustmethistime @mamaskillerqueen @queenslandlover-93 @tenement-funstah @rogmeddows

[thebiasrekkers]

No Words -interlude iv-

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Type: Interlude [Flashback]

Genre: Idol, Poly, Interracial, Tall Female, Smut, Angst, Fluff [if you squint]

Warning: Smut. Holy Water Req. Possessive Tae. Bossy Tae. OC gets pretzel action. Growling [ Did I say possessive?]. Handjob, sorta.

A/N - One more flashback, after this, then back to the present. Is this considered pining? I feel like I can’t emotion - ha! Thank you for enjoying this mess, as usual.

Words:  2049

--

The whites of her eyes were visible as they widened. Taehyung’s head tilted as he pushed into her, his hand wrapped around her waist to tug her forward. The motion caused a gasp; that small part between her lips was an invitation he couldn’t ignore.

The rough surface of his tongue brushed against hers - and it was stupid. It was absurd that moan that slipped out of her. It was so crazy the way he pulled her leg up against his waist. It was absolute insanity as sudden desperation grew between the tangle of their lips. It was madness as his fingers slid under her hoodie. It drove her crazy the way his nails raked against her skin.

It was positively out of the question when his fingers toyed with the waistband of her sweats. Her eyes rolled open as he kissed along her jaw. His fingers flexed against her skin. His lips suctioned to that thin skin behind her ear, causing her body to rock into his.

Wait, when did they get to her bedroom?

“You’re beautiful,” He growled along her skin. Their lips tangled again as buttons, jackets, and hoodie went flying into various directions. His shirt hung open as he crushed her body to his. He hummed as his fingers sank into that wealth of soft curls - and tugged. That sound that came from her made his blood boil. Her body arched backward as if she tried to escape. All it did was give him more skin to explore. He scraped his teeth along her collarbone to the top of a breast, threatening to spill from its confines.

His long fingers wrapped around the back of her neck. Damn, he had a big mouth!? She grunts as it seemed he was able to take in twice as much surface than she’d ever experienced. Another few minutes of mindless kissing, her bra was gone, and she was sprawled on her bed. He pulled the scrunchie from her hair, staring down at the goosebumps prickling on the chocolate of her skin. His chest heaved as he finally discarded his shirt, a thumb flicking at the button of jeans that were too tight for his liking.

Their pupils mirrored dark and lust-blown. She looked like she was thinking too hard. He reached down to snag her by the hips. Her ass hung off the end of the bed as he let his lips slide against her calf. Before she could think any harder? Her sweatpants went flying, and they both had a look of shock - because she decided not to put any undies back on.

So he was met with the glistening slick sticking to her thighs.

Shit! Shit! This was getting heavy, this was too intense. Again, as if he caught her delving in that logical brain? He pulled her hips up against the rigid outline testing the hold of his zipper. Her eyes rolled again as he thrust that clothed erection against her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His voice dropped lower, and she swore she gushed. He let her settle on the end of the bed, his fingers sliding against the outline in his jeans.

He licked his fingers, dropping to his knees, her legs tossed over his shoulders. Braced on her elbows, she watched with bated breath as his lips moved from the side of her knee. He lapped at the sticky residue on her thighs, both of them. Breathing across her glistening sex with each pass. Her chest heaved ragged breaths as she waited for him to end her torment.

Long fingers dug into the meat of her thighs as he lifted that molten gaze to her own. He placed a chaste kiss on that inner corner of her leg. The one so close to her sex, he could probably see her clenching. “You’re beautiful.” He inhaled that slightly sweet essence of…coconut? The more heat she radiated, the more the smell seemed to permeate his olfactory.

The first tentative flick of his tongue made her thighs tremble. She was seeping arousal by the time he went in for a full lick. “Ohmygo-V!” She gasped, falling on the bed, fingers knotting into her blanket. He lifted her ass while feasting on her. He growled as he wrapped his lips around her clit. His tongue running flat and extended from the opening to the underside of that sensitive nub. She dug her feet into his shoulders, half trying to escape and half trying to push her hips into his mouth.

“So good,” He rumbled against her. Taehyung’s fingers were white with the force of trying to hold her still. She kept trying to run, and he chased her. His lips pursed in a perfect kiss around her clit, she moaned his name. No, she whined that other name.

“Say my name..” Incoherent sounds as he circled that throbbing nub with his tongue. A finger teased the entrance, and he felt her clench down on it. He licked his lips, swirling his finger. “Come on, you can do it.”

Her face was twisted in desire as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She had her hands on her breasts as ragged breaths shook her. “T-Taehyung! Tae, please…” He moaned as two long fingers filled that empty space. Her body invited him..to stay. Snapping down on his fingers as he reached in, twisted to flick that mushy spot in the depths of her body.

He pistoned those fingers to a symphony of muffled moans and squelching noises. She tried to be quiet, pulling the pillow over her face. He could hear her losing her sanity. Taehyung’s gaze grew dark as he yanked the pillow from her face. “We’re going to play a game, Noona. It’s called Be Quiet.” She had enough resolve left to give him an incredulous look as he stood. She saw the angry red, shiny tip of his cock over the top of his jeans.

He pushed a knee between her legs scooting her up the bed surface. “I’ll kill you.” She growled as he lifted her by her hip, and he kicked furiously out of his jeans. This was really happening? He leaned against her leg, straddling the other. They both registered complete and total nudity. The echo of their ragged breathing ate the ambient noise around them.

Taehyung tilted his head, that arrogant tilt, that had him brushing his tongue across his bottom lip. “Not before I kill you first.” He pistoned his fingers, causing her to gasp for every molecule of air she could. He leaned into her until her knee hit her shoulder. Their eyes locked, their lips followed as she fisted her hands through his hair.

He growled into her mouth as her teeth set into his top lip. “Tae, s-stop. You…ha-have to…oh my fuck, s-t-stop. Gonna..come, fuck..” Her voice was a hoarse plea against his mouth.

“Give it to me. It’s mine. I want it.” He growled as he kept taping that spongy area with his thumb circling her clit. “Do it.” The sound was like holding your hand against a faucet as you turned it on. It was like a sputter as she felt the pressure build in her gut.

“N-no, Tae! W-wait, you don’t under-fuckme-stand. God, I…I can’t hold iiittt…” She keened softly.

“Did you hear what I said? Give me what’s mine!” There was a ripple against his fingers, he could feel her trembling from the inside out. He leaned down near her ear. Utilizing the depth of his voice, he pitched down to a purr vibrating bass. “Come for me.” Her eyes rolled into her head, her fingers dug into his shoulders. His free hand wrapped around her throat just enough pressure to cause a momentary cease in oxygen.

And she exploded.

Her nostrils flared a fight for air as she pulsed, pulled, and pushed his fingers with orgasmic force. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she came in a spray against his abdomen. Taehyung looked at the liquid dripping down his skin. She whimpered as her body finally relaxed with a thump against the bed. The tears flowed from the side of her eyes, he could see the faintest crimson flush under skin. He licked his fingers as her breathing regulated.

His fingers dug into her hips as he stroked himself, using her juices as a lubricant. Her eyes felt like marbles rolling around in her skull. Clutching the sheets for dear life, she tried to escape his hold. “Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere.” He flipped her flat on her back, dragging the throbbing veiny length of his cock against her folds.

Sensitive, she bucked against the intrusion. “Look at me, Noona.” Her eyes were wide as she got a good look at him. He looked ready to burst, those long fingers pushed her legs together. He slid between that tight space created by her thighs; a look of pure bliss painted his features. He kept her legs together, his hands grasping at her breasts. He fucked that space, sliding between her folds against her clit. She clenched, watching him, her hands moved down to create a tighter hole. The head of his cock pushed between her thumb and pointer finger. “You’re beautiful.” He panted against her calf.

“Don’t let anyone tell you other-w-wise, god, fucking…” His teeth set into her leg. “…I couldn’t..can’t stop thinking about you.” He gasped as his heart stuttered. They both knew that this was way out of line. They both knew that this could change things drastically.

They both didn’t care.

“God, I want you all to myself. A-ah, f-fuck, fuck, tighter, tighter…” He growled with each thrust. She squeezed him as he pushed through her fingers.

“T-tae, I’m gonna cum again.” She could feel the thundering pulsation in her stomach. “Oh, my, god…Taehyung, I’m g-gonna..” Immediately she reached for the blanket as her body bucked against the slide of his dick between her folds. She could feel the rippling sensation as her pussy clenched, seeking something as her legs trembled against his ribs.

“M-me t-too, fuck, fuck,” Taehyung sounded like he was in respiratory failure the way he gulped the air. His fingers dug bruising possession into her hips. “Give it to me. Come for me..” Taehyung had enough, and he slipped inside of her.

One long, deep, shuddering stroke, and he bottomed out. He sank into her full to the hilt, and he saw stars. There was that liquid squelch as she came in a rush all around him. Her body grabbing and molding to the throbbing bit of meat inside of her.

“Yesss, yes, that’s it. That’s. What. I. Fucking. Want.” He fucked her through that bliss, tumbling her over a second edge. He leaned down, trapping those rapturous sounds into his mouth. He swallowed them, locked them away to keep forever.

She said his name, and he suddenly heard white noise. She spoke his name like a prayer to god’s long dead. His thrusts were focused as she chanted his name. Spoke it like it would deliver absolution for her sins or her battered soul.

She pulled him down and spoke against his ear, moaning, “Give it to me. It’s mine.”

“I’m …gonna…can I? Please? Can I?” The tears welled up in his eyes as he felt the pull in his testicles.

She fisted her hands in his hair. “I want it. With me, Tae, gonna …again, with me..” He spread her legs, and she wrapped them around his waist. Heels digging into his ass to push him deeper. They rocked entangled limbs and lips.

The desperation mellowed to something else, slower, sweeter? Soothing. As if on cue, in unison, their eyes rolled shut as they stilled. The faintest tremor rippling their flesh. They cursed together as the orgasm snatched both their sanity away.

Both biting their lips to keep the jubilant cry of release at bay. He could feel her coating and gripping him. She could hear the animalistic grunts as his hips went shallow and the strong spurt of his cum inside of her. Their bodies were tense for minutes before they relaxed.

He felt right on top of her - he knew it.

Oh no.

And now?

So did she.

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 37: Weezer - Part 2

Kilo struggles to his feet at the bottom of a hole that did not exist ten seconds ago. Toto watches him from the rim of the hole, smiling easily without any hint of malice. 

The enemy rubs his eyebrow with a spidery finger and explains, “Five years ago, yeah? There was an accident,” he says, as if sitting across from Kilo in a bar booth, “They was setting up some sort of overhead sound system or whatever, and they ended up droppin’ a couple tons of equipment from the ceiling. Made a hole in the floor. Right here, dig? The convention centre administrators were too cheap to fix it right, so they just covered the hole with plaster. Came back to bite ‘em in the ass though, cause eventually that hole opened up into a sinkhole that swallowed up six people!”  

Kilo glares up at him as he chuckles, continuing his lackadaisical monologue. “Moral of the story? It all comes back to you. No matter how deep you bury ‘em, every misfortune stacks up, until it blows up in yo’ face. My WEEZER… is just what ignites it. I told ya, you’d only get one chance to walk.”

By the time he’s finished, Kilo is back on his feet, not appearing the least bit intimidated. “I don’t give a shit,” he declares, then SATURN BARZ drives its taloned fingers into the wall of the pit. The Stand gouges a cleft of dry rock from the wall, and the wall begins to bubble and froth, turning into a thick, gravelly sludge. This effect extends upwards, reaching the rim of the pit. 

“Whuh--?” Toto says, as the ground he’s standing dissolves into a sheer mudslide, and his feet are caught up in the muck. He bolts upright, flailing his arms to keep his balance.

But while he focuses on this, Kilo ascends from the hole, having been raised up by SATURN BARZ. He grabs a fistful of Toto’s hoodie and pulls himself forward. Toto is pulled in the opposite direction, losing his balance and tumbling forward into his own pit trap. Kilo lands on the edge of the hole in a crouch at the same moment Toto hits the bottom, standing submerged up to his waist in liquid concrete. With a swift whirl of its hands, SATURN BARZ reverts the mudslide back into solid concrete, trapping his opponent in solid stone.

“Uhh--” Toto utters, not entirely sure what has just happened to him.

“Some nightmare!” Kilo taunts at him, “Damn. And here I was expecting a challenge outta you. What a joke!”

Before the Congregation assassin can say anything back, Kilo gets up and walks away, amidst a Convention floor in various stages of agony. Upwards of 300 people roll around groaning in pain, while others, unaffected, either run about or stand struck dumb, helpless among the sudden horror. 

“Jesus…” he mutters, rushing to attend to Moya. The cold sweat that formed on her flesh as a result of WEEZER’s touch has now developed into a corpse-like pallor that’s turned her bronze skin to a sickly gray. “What the hell’s happening to you?” he asks, kneeling to help her up.

“I-it’s Toto’s ability…” she answers after a brief coughing fit and spitting an absurd volume of green mucus. Her voice is scratchy, and her breath is short and shallow, but she takes his hand nonetheless, and drapes her over his shoulders.

Kilo places the back of his hand on her forehead, then pulls it back quickly. “You’re burning up! What ability could do this?!”

“It’s pneumonia…!” she asserts, “Ough, when I was 10, I caught pneumonia after staying out in the rain…! Abuela said not to stay out so long, but I didn’t listen… Agh, doesn’t matter!! Whatever it is, Toto was the one that caused this! I’ve never worked with him before, but… the ability must revive illnesses from your past to harm you in the present…!”

Kilo glances around the convention hall once more, then nods in agreement. “Sure. But what about the sinkhole?”

“Buildings can be damaged, too. And Hotel California demonstrated how a structure can have its own history and will.”

“Right. Alright…” he is quiet for a moment, then he carries her to a nearby column and sits her down against it. “Hang tight,” he says, starting back towards the pit, “I’m gonna finish that muthafucka off.”

“Wait!” Moya cries out, straining her voice. “You need to be cautious! I-if he touches you, then you’ll be caught in his ability too!” 

A grin spreads across Kilo’s lips. “Worst I ever got was a cold when I was 6! His ability might be hot shit if you had something bad like you did, but it’ll take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me! Not to mention, he’s enough of a scrub to get himself caught in his own trap! Asshole’s dead-meat already!” He says this as he reaches the rim of the pit, but finds thats Toto is no longer trapped in the concrete.

Right as he begins to search for him, Toto reveals himself, speaking from behind Kilo. “It’s rude to talk ‘bout people behind their backs,” he declares, brushing loose gravel off him, “But, I guess, I got nobody to blame but myself, yeah?”

Kilo and SATURN BARZ whirls around towards their enemy, the Stand forming a spear of solidified oxygen in its hand. It jabs the impromptu icicle at Toto’s throat, but he dodges to the side with a lazy grin on his face. WEEZER manifests in front of him, and reaches for SATURN BARZ with the same blinding speed it showed to WITCH MOUNTAIN. But Kilo is ready, as just before the mangled enemy Stand grabs a hold of his throat, the ice spear suddenly explodes into frigged shrapnel right in Toto’s face. 

The Congregation assassin winces as the icy shards pelt him over his body. “AHH!! Damn, that hurts!!” he yelps, and in that moment of distraction, SATURN BARZ lunges for him, claws aimed at his face. Toto gathers himself and sways back with footwork that would make Muhammad Ali proud, and WEEZER jerks a knuckle to the ground.

Kilo’s foot falls in the exact spot where WEEZER touched, and the ground beneath it gives way, opening into another hole, smaller than the first and shallower, only going halfway up his calf. He drops and lands flat-footed. He groans as pangs of pain run up his leg. 

“Guess two sinkholes was too good to be true,” Toto says before WEEZER lurches into a new attack. 

“Don’t let him touch you!” Moya shouts, watching all of this from her pillar. 

With a swift backhand swipe, SATURN BARZ bats WEEZER’s hands out of the way. Toto grunts as heavy ice begins to form on his Stand’s hand and the biting cold effect transfers over to himself. In the meantime, Kilo steps out of the pit trap and puts distance between him and his opponent. 

Toto raises an eyebrow at him. “What was it you said? ‘Take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me’. If you ain’t scared of what my WEEZER can do, how come you standing so far away?” 

“I’m not scared. But I’m not stupid either and I know you Congregation pricks are full of dirty tricks.”

The Congregation assassin laughs. “Heheheh… That’s pretty smart… Or it would be, if touching you was the only way WEEZER could hurt you.”

WEEZER’s hand flex suddenly, its fingers spreading and shattering the frost forming on its hand. It then launches its entire body in Kilo’s direction with a piercing screech. “BIIISHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…”

“Shi--!!” Kilo says, raising SATURN BARZ to guard, but to his surprise, WEEZER sails right over his head and slams its palm into the wide window behind him. Then the glass begins to shudder and vibrate violently, before WEEZER peels away from it, and the window explodes inwards, showering Kilo with a hail of glass. 

“AAGH!” he yells, and SATURN BARZ tries to shield its user from the oncoming barrage of glass, but is unable to get them all, as thick shards pierce Kilo in his arm, ribs and thigh.

“That one was an accident too,” Toto calls, “Tropical storm hit Anaheim about ten years ago, tore up a tree that broke a window. Nobody got hurt that time, though!” 

Kilo winces as SATURN BARZ dissolves the glass into liquid and his wounds close up into red marks. “Shit!” he thinks, “It’s like his Stand can do anything he wants it to! Even if I don’t let him touch me, if I keep letting him make all the moves, I’m a dead man! There’s gotta be something I can use!!”

He searches with his eyes frantically around the convention hall, hunting for something to gain an advantage over this seemingly impossible enemy. Toto seems perfectly content to simply watch him, hands in his pockets, without a care in the world. Kilo grinds his teeth and scowls at him.

“Hey, come ooon, what’s that look for? I already gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it. Don’t blame me for your mistakes~…”

Kilo answers with a flick of the wrist from SATURN BARZ, firing shards of solidified water vapor at his opponent. The assassin dodges, then dodges the next batch, and keeps up with Kilo when he starts running down the hall, leaping over afflicted guests and tearing through convention booths.

SATURN BARZ keeps up the attack the whole time, flinging at Toto with frozen projectiles. WEEZER blocks them all with its unmitigated speed, its jaw hanging loose from its skull swinging to and fro with every staccato motion. 

Kilo vaults onto a table and SATURN BARZ takes its Olympian stance, forming a great ice javelin in its palm and hurling it at its enemy. It is the same kind as before, set with opposing impulses within its structure so it may explode into a smokescreen, even if WEEZER deflects it. But WEEZER does not deflect it.

Instead, it jerks its right foot underneath a convention guest with angry red spots growing on his face. The unfortunate guest’s body lifts off the ground and WEEZER catches him by the back of his neck, holding him in front of its master. The guest’s eyes clear up for long enough to see the ice spear fly at him before it impales him through his shoulder. He loses consciousness when the spear explodes, turning his wound into a bloody cavity you could see through. Toto is left completely unscathed.

“What… What the fuck did you do?!” Kilo shouts, staring in shock and disgust.

“What did I do? I… protected myself from your attack. What’s it look like?” WEEZER grips its human shield by the neck then tosses it at Kilo, who dives from the table to catch him. When he does, the diseased Stand appears and lunges for him.

“First he uses this guy as a shield, now as a distraction!? This bastard…!!” Kilo thinks. Before WEEZER can lay its mottled hands on him, SATURN BARZ strikes out with a kick to its gut that knocks the wind out of Toto. Kilo then rolls out of its range, clutching the guest’s body.

“You son of a bitch…!” he snarls while SATURN BARZ closes the unconscious guest’s wound, “What’s the matter with you!?! How can you involve innocent people like this?!!”

Toto, as ever, treats his words like a joke, laughing softly. “Haha… It’s just bad luck. It ain’t my fault, and it ain’t yours. He just happened to be here at the wrong time, and happened to get involved in our little playdate. If you take the time to worry about every little ant you step on, you’d never take another step.”

“You sick fuck…”

“What’re you getting so upset for? Human lives ain’t that big a deal,” the Congregation assassin fixes his posture, recovering from SATURN BARZ strike, “All humans are just vessels for Fate to enact its will. Even Stand users like us. Stands are reflections of the soul, but that doesn’t mean that having one is anything special. They got nothing to do with good or evil, or justice. All it means is that Fate chose us to have a little bit more impact in its design. Fate chose you, just like it chose me. You and I were always going to fight here today, and that guy, and these people, were always going to get caught in the middle. No matter how much you fight it, we both ultimately serve the same power.”

“Again…” Kilo murmurs, rising. The guest’s wound has closed over completely, forming a pale, circular scar in his shoulder. “I’m so sick of hearing you people talk out of your ass at me. All this shit about God and fate and higher beings…” SATURN BARZ takes a bow-legged stance and raises its hands over its head as its master continues “All that I could take, but worse! You all keep tryin’ to tell me that I’m the same as you. I don’t want to be mentioned in the breath as you fucking losers!!!”

SATURN BARZ claps its hand together and steam explodes out from between them. This builds into a thick fog that covers everything in a damp smokescreen.

“Really?” Toto says, unimpressed. He saunters through the smokescreen, his head bobbing up and down as he steps on bodies without a care.

[darknytemare]

No Words -interlude iv-

BTS - V Imagine - Tall Girl - Interracial - Interlude [Flashback continued] -HOLY WATER REQ.

a/n - one more interlude after this - then we return to the present tomorrow!

The whites of her eyes were visible as they widened. Taehyung's head tilted as he pushed into her, his hand wrapped around her waist to tug her forward. The motion caused a gasp; that small part between her lips was an invitation he couldn’t ignore.

The rough surface of his tongue brushed against hers - and it was stupid. It was absurd that moan that slipped out of her. It was so crazy the way he pulled her leg up against his waist. It was absolute insanity as sudden desperation grew between the tangle of their lips. It was madness as his fingers slid under her hoodie. It drove her crazy the way his nails raked against her skin. 

It was positively out of the question when his fingers toyed with the waistband of her sweats. Her eyes rolled open as he kissed along her jaw. His fingers flexed against her skin. His lips suctioned to that thin skin behind her ear, causing her body to rock into his. 

Wait, when did they get to her bedroom?

“You’re beautiful,” He growled along her skin. Their lips tangled again as buttons, jackets, and hoodie went flying into various directions. His shirt hung open as he crushed her body to his. He hummed as his fingers sank into that wealth of soft curls - and tugged. That sound that came from her made his blood boil. Her body arched backward as if she tried to escape. All it did was give him more skin to explore. He scraped his teeth along her collarbone to the top of a breast, threatening to spill from its confines. 

His long fingers wrapped around the back of her neck. Damn, he had a big mouth!? She grunts as it seemed he was able to take in twice as much surface than she’d ever experienced. Another few minutes of mindless kissing, her bra was gone, and she was sprawled on her bed. He pulled the scrunchie from her hair, staring down at the goosebumps prickling on the chocolate of her skin. His chest heaved as he finally discarded his shirt, a thumb flicking at the button of jeans that were too tight for his liking.

Their pupils mirrored dark and lust-blown. She looked like she was thinking too hard. He reached down to snag her by the hips. Her ass hung off the end of the bed as he let his lips slide against her calf. Before she could think any harder? Her sweatpants went flying, and they both had a look of shock - because she decided not to put any undies back on. 

So he was met with the glistening slick sticking to her thighs.

Shit! Shit! This was getting heavy, this was too intense. Again, as if he caught her delving in that logical brain? He pulled her hips up against the rigid outline testing the hold of his zipper. Her eyes rolled again as he thrust that clothed erection against her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His voice dropped lower, and she swore she gushed. He let her settle on the end of the bed, his fingers sliding against the outline in his jeans. 

He licked his fingers, dropping to his knees, her legs tossed over his shoulders. Braced on her elbows, she watched with bated breath as his lips moved from the side of her knee. He lapped at the sticky residue on her thighs, both of them. Breathing across her glistening sex with each pass. Her chest heaved ragged breaths as she waited for him to end her torment. 

Long fingers dug into the meat of her thighs as he lifted that molten gaze to her own. He placed a chaste kiss on that inner corner of her leg. The one so close to her sex, he could probably see her clenching. “You’re beautiful.” He inhaled that slightly sweet essence of...coconut? The more heat she radiated, the more the smell seemed to permeate his olfactory. 

The first tentative flick of his tongue made her thighs tremble. She was seeping arousal by the time he went in for a full lick. “Ohmygo-V!” She gasped, falling on the bed, fingers knotting into her blanket. He lifted her ass while feasting on her. He growled as he wrapped his lips around her clit. His tongue running flat and extended from the opening to the underside of that sensitive nub. She dug her feet into his shoulders, half trying to escape and half trying to push her hips into his mouth.

“So good,” He rumbled against her. Taehyung’s fingers were white with the force of trying to hold her still. She kept trying to run, and he chased her. His lips pursed in a perfect kiss around her clit, she moaned his name. No, she whined that other name. 

“Say my name..” Incoherent sounds as he circled that throbbing nub with his tongue. A finger teased the entrance, and he felt her clench down on it. He licked his lips, swirling his finger. “Come on, you can do it.” 

Her face was twisted in desire as tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She had her hands on her breasts as ragged breaths shook her. “T-Taehyung! Tae, please…” He moaned as two long fingers filled that empty space. Her body invited him..to stay. Snapping down on his fingers as he reached in, twisted to flick that mushy spot in the depths of her body. 

He pistoned those fingers to a symphony of muffled moans and squelching noises. She tried to be quiet, pulling the pillow over her face. He could hear her losing her sanity. Taehyung’s gaze grew dark as he yanked the pillow from her face. “We’re going to play a game, noona. It’s called Be Quiet.” She had enough resolve to give him an incredulous look as he stood. She saw the angry red, shiny tip of his cock over the top of his jeans. 

He pushed a knee between her legs scooting her up the bed surface. “I’ll kill you.” She growled as he lifted her by her hip, and he kicked furiously out of his jeans. This was really happening? He leaned against her leg, straddling the other. They both registered complete and total nudity. The echo of their ragged breathing ate the ambient noise around them.

Taehyung tilted his head, that arrogant tilt, that had him brushing his tongue across his bottom lip. “Not before I kill you first.” He pistoned his fingers, causing her to gasp for every molecule of air she could. He leaned into her until her knee hit her shoulder. Their eyes locked, their lips followed as she fisted her hands through his hair.

He growled into her mouth as her teeth set into his top lip. “Tae, s-stop. You...ha-have to...oh my fuck, s-t-stop. Gonna..come, fuck..” Her voice was a hoarse plea against his mouth. 

“Give it to me. It’s mine. I want it.” He growled as he kept taping that spongy area with his thumb circling her clit. “Do it.” The sound was like holding your hand against a faucet as you turned it on. It was like a sputter as she felt the pressure build in her gut. 

“N-no, Tae! W-wait, you don’t under-fuckme-stand. God, I...I can’t hold iiittt…” She keened softly.

“Did you hear what I said? Give me what’s mine!” There was a ripple against his fingers, he could feel her trembling from the inside out. He leaned down near her ear. Utilizing the depth of his voice, he pitched down to a purr vibrating bass. “Come for me.” Her eyes rolled into her head, her fingers dug into his shoulders. His free hand wrapped around her throat just enough pressure to cause a momentary cease in oxygen.

And she exploded.

Her nostrils flared a fight for air as she pulsed, pulled, and pushed his fingers with orgasmic force. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she came in a spray against his abdomen. Taehyung looked at the liquid dripping down his skin. She whimpered as her body finally relaxed with a thump against the bed. The tears flowed from the side of her eyes, he could see the faintest crimson flush under skin. He licked his fingers as her breathing regulated.

His fingers dug into her hips as he stroked himself, using her juices as a lubricant. Her eyes felt like marbles rolling around in her skull. Clutching the sheets for dear life, she tried to escape his hold. “Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere.” He flipped her flat on her back, dragging the throbbing veiny length of his cock against her folds.

Sensitive, she bucked against the intrusion. “Look at me, noona.” Her eyes were wide as she got a good look at him. He looked ready to burst, those long fingers pushed her legs together. He slid between that tight space created by her thighs; a look of pure bliss painted his features. He kept her legs together, his hands grasping at her breasts. He fucked that space, sliding between her folds against her clit. She clenched, watching him, her hands moved down to create a tighter hole. The head of his cock pushed between her thumb and pointer finger. “You’re beautiful.” He panted against her calf.

“Don’t let anyone tell you other-w-wise, god, fucking…” His teeth set into her leg. “...I couldn’t..can’t stop thinking about you.” He gasped as his heart stuttered. They both knew that this was way out of line. They both knew that this could change things drastically. 

They both didn’t care. 

“God, I want you all to myself. A-ah, f-fuck, fuck, tighter, tighter…” He growled with each thrust. She squeezed him as he pushed through her fingers.

“T-tae, I’m gonna cum again.” She could feel the thundering pulsation in her stomach. “Oh, my, god...Taehyung, I’m g-gonna..” Immediately she reached for the blanket as her body bucked against the slide of his dick between her folds. She could feel the rippling sensation as her pussy clenched, seeking something as her legs trembled against his ribs.

“M-me t-too, fuck, fuck,” Taehyung sounded like he was in respiratory failure the way he gulped the air. His fingers dug bruising possession into her hips. “Give it to me. Come for me..” Taehyung had enough, and he slipped inside of her.

One long, deep, shuddering stroke, and he bottomed out. He sank into her full to the hilt, and he saw stars. There was that liquid squelch as she came in a rush all around him. Her body grabbing and molding to the throbbing bit of meat inside of her. 

“Yesss, yes, that’s it. That’s. What. I. Fucking. Want.” He fucked her through that bliss, tumbling her over a second edge. He leaned down, trapping those rapturous sounds into his mouth. He swallowed them, locked them away to keep forever. 

She said his name, and he suddenly heard white noise. She spoke his name like a prayer to god's long dead. His thrusts were focused as she chanted his name. Spoke it like it would deliver absolution for her sins or her battered soul. 

She pulled him down and spoke against his ear, moaning, “Give it to me. It’s mine.” 

“I’m ...gonna...can I? Please? Can I?” The tears welled up in his eyes as he felt the pull in his testicles. 

She fisted her hands in his hair. “I want it. With me, Tae, gonna ...again, with me..” He spread her legs, and she wrapped them around his waist. Heels digging into his ass to push him deeper. They rocked entangled limbs and lips.

The desperation mellowed to something else, slower, sweeter? Soothing. As if on cue, in unison, their eyes rolled shut as they stilled. The faintest tremor rippling their flesh. They cursed together as the orgasm snatched both their sanity away.

Both biting their lips to keep the jubilant cry of release at bay. He could feel her coating and gripping him. She could hear the animalistic grunts as his hips went shallow and the strong spurt of his cum inside of her. Their bodies were tense for minutes before they relaxed. 

He felt right on top of her - he knew it. 

Oh no.

And now?

So did she.

[lilacmiracle]

The Moon Won't Help You When You're Lost

Fandoms: Markiplier

(AO3) Words: 2999

You had been in these woods for hours. You had decided to take a nice, short hike to get away from the stress of work - it wasn’t easy, being the District Attorney. You had left around midday - and now the full moon hung in the sky, mocking you with its cold light as you searched desperately for anything, any sign or landmark that could lead you back out of the woods.

As you searched, the moon only climbed higher in the sky, and the forest around you became denser and denser.

You had glimpsed various animals earlier in the day, but now it was eerily silent. There were no footsteps, no rustle in the leaves underfoot as a small animal scurried about. Not even the chirp of a cricket or the whistle of the wind - the only noise came from your feet softly crushing the leaves beneath your shoes.

Finally, as you began to accept that you may very well die in these woods, you hear a chilling howl. It sounds like a wolf, and one that was far away at that, but some instinctive, visceral feeling pierced your chest. It left your heart racing, and you knew, deep within your bones, that this was no wolf.

You walked a bit faster. There had to be some way out of these woods, there had to. Besides, the sound came from a direction away from where you were walking.

A creeping sense of unease stole over you. You tried to shake it off - the creepy noise was too far away for its source to be nearby. It couldn’t bother you.

Nevertheless, you felt eyes watching you. Stalking you. Observing its prey, just before it pounced.

You were walking at a speed just short of a run. Adrenaline pounded within your veins, you could hear your heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears, your breaths came out quickly, harshly, unevenly.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow, and you could barely make out the crunch of leaves as something stepped upon the ground nearby. It could’ve been a harmless deer - but that was the breaking point. You broke into a dead run, flying through the woods as though every footfall was the difference between life and death.

Behind you, the sound of leaves being crushed was so loud that you couldn’t ignore it - something was chasing you, hunting you, going to catch up at any second -

And something caught your leg.

You slammed into the ground, hitting your arm painfully on a gnarled tree root, which was sticking up from the ground.

Your calf was within the jaws of some monstrous wolf. It practically screamed in pain, the slimy saliva of the wolf - it had to be mutated or something to have grown this large - mixing with the blood within the gaping holes in your flesh, carved out by the abomination’s monstrously sharp teeth.

It began to drag you by the leg, back where you had just come from - your head dragged on the ground, your muscles drained of all strength by the monster.

You felt something warm creep from your calf, and you faintly heard it drip onto the leaves on the ground, and you felt it slide beneath your back when the wolf continued its journey back, presumably to its den, with its prize. You almost can’t bear to look - look into the beady, vicious eyes of the predator, look into its snarl as its mouth was undoubtedly marred with your blood, look at its matted, greasy black fur glimmer in the pale moonlight.

But you look anyway - to see your pant leg torn into unrecognizable shreds, and your calf dripping a viscous crimson fluid, while the powerful wolf drags you on. Its maw is dripping in blood and something that looks almost yellow.

You cannot feel your leg anymore, and you don’t know whether that is a good or bad thing. Your thoughts are confused, your mind is filled with a hazy fog.

Maybe it’s the blood loss that gets you. 

Or maybe you finally pass out from fear.

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You wake up with a jolt. The surface that you are lying on is soft, and you are covered in something warm. Sunlight streams into the room as you open your eyes.

You’re on a bed that isn’t yours. It looks vaguely familiar, and you get the nagging feeling that you’ve been here before.

You attempt to sit up, before falling back onto the pillows, hissing in pain. It felt like a knife had just sliced through your skull.

Deciding to simply look around, you see minimal decor. It appears to be a guest room.

The style of the room nags at you, for it screams of familiarity. You know where you are, but a fog in your mind just won’t let you think.

As alarming as this should be, you can’t help but feel safe. You know who owns this room, and you would trust them with your life.

“I’m glad to see that you’re awake, old friend.”

The door had creaked open, and Damien stood in the doorway. Now you remember - this is his house, and his guest room.

You try to ask him what happened, or how you got from the woods to his spare bedroom, or something to that effect - but the words won’t leave your throat. It feels like they’ve been caught by massive shards of glass embedded in your airways.

“Please don’t try to speak. You’re probably wondering what happened, right?”

You nod hesitantly, not knowing if the action will cause the same kind of pain that everything else has so far. 

Damien walks towards you, and sits near the end of the bed. He gently lays one hand on your leg, while his shoulders sag. He looks deeply into your eyes.

It’s now that you realize that he looks as awful as you feel. The bags beneath his eyes are a deep purple, his usually perfectly styled hair is hopelessly tangled, and his abnormally small frame trembles slightly. You can nearly see his skeleton, with how thin he’s become.

“I found you on my morning run, on the edge of the woods that I always pass by. It looked like you’d been attacked by a wild animal - you were covered in dirt and leaves and there were cuts on your arms and hands. Most of your clothes were torn to shreds, or else covered in dirt and blood. Your leg had been nearly torn off - I almost had to call a doctor, but I was able to bandage it somewhat decently.”

You were immensely grateful to him. He, quite frankly, looked like shit, and yet he still managed to save you from whatever injuries you had sustained the evening prior.

You still couldn’t feel your leg. You tried to move it, or wiggle your toes at the very least, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I know that you’re not going to like this, but I must implore you not to attempt to leave, at least for the near future.”

That seemed somewhat reasonable, for the time being. You knew that you couldn’t really do any work in this state, and Damien likely feared for your safety. After all, if you had found him on the ground looking half-dead, you wouldn’t want him out of your sight either.

“Do you want anything?”

You shake your head slightly. Damien nods, and lightly squeezes your uninjured leg before standing. He walks back to the doorway, before looking back at you for a moment.

“I would advise getting some rest.”

You glance over at the window, still brightly shining sunlight into the room. Damien notices this, and walks over to the curtain and closes it. He smiles at you gently, before walking back to the door, leaving it slightly cracked open as he leaves you to sleep.

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The next time you wake up isn’t nearly as pleasant. The room is completely drowned in darkness, and you can’t even see your hand in front of your face.

Your skin itches all over. You try in vain to scratch some of it, but that only makes it worse.

Your leg hurts, but it’s not the sharp sting of when it was bitten. It’s more of a dull ache, radiating out to the rest of your body.

You try to sit up. You manage to, for a moment, but then it feels like your brain has been skewered by a particularly violent chef. You lie back down on the bed.

When your head hits the pillow, the sound that it makes is almost akin to that of a gunshot in its intensity. You slide your hand on the blanket slightly as you raise it to place it against your forehead, for a sound that loud only intensified your killer headache; the sound of your hand on the embroidered top of the blanket is awful, it is so loud that you feel that it should tremble the house.

There are crickets outside of the window, and they chirp - but it is so loud that they may as well be screaming. 

Your ears are assaulted for hours on end; everything is so loud. Too loud.

The sun begins to rise, after so, so long. You can see the light streaming through the window, only a single ray of sun filtering through the crack between the curtains. Though it is only a ray of sun, the whole room becomes clear. Your eyes adjust much faster than usual, and everything in the room is in abnormally perfect focus.

There are footsteps outside the door. It creaks open, slowly, and its hinges scream violently in protest.

Damien speaks softly, but you can hear him just as well as if he were sitting next to you instead of standing in the doorway.

“Hello, old friend. I did not mean to disrupt your rest, but...do things suddenly seem abnormally loud to you?”

You nod, and wonder just how he knew what was happening, because clearly things weren’t actually that loud. It had to be your perception, right?

Damien walks off, his footsteps light enough that they aren’t too loud.

He comes back a few minutes later, with two earplugs in hand.

“These should help you.”

He hands them to you, and you put them in. Everything is much quieter. It feels good, calm, refreshing even.

Damien smiles at you, gently. There is a sadness in his eyes, but you cannot fathom why. It feels bittersweet.

You are so, so tired.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You wake up, and the sun is shining brightly. You can see it stream through the space between the curtains.

You sit up, and it is easy. You are able to remain upright, and no jolt of pain crashes through your skull.

You go to grab at one of the earplugs, but when you tap on it, the noise is like that of a cannon going off. You decide to leave it in.

You take the blanket off of you, for the first time in who knows how long. Your injured leg is wrapped in clean bandages. You notice that you are in clean pajamas, though you are still wearing your undershirt and all of your other underclothes. 

The pajamas smell like Damien.

You swing your legs off of the bed. You try to stand, putting most of your weight on your uninjured leg. You have to grip the nearby dresser for balance, but eventually you are able to stand unsupported.

You gingerly take a step forward. And then another. You have to lean on the dresser, but you make your way to the end of it, towards the door.

You have to lean against the wall for the final few feet, but you finally make it to the doorway.

Your stomach growls. You know where the kitchen is - you can make your way there.

As you walk to the kitchen, painfully slowly and relying heavily on the wall, you smell something. The aroma is heavenly, and you think that it may be coming from the kitchen.

Eventually, you make your way there. You see Damien at the stove, his back to you. He might be humming, but you cannot be sure without taking out the earplugs.

Damien looks up, and he visibly jolts at the sight of you. He puts down whatever he is holding, rushes over to you, and firmly grips the arm that you’re not using for support.

He wordlessly gestures for you to lean on him. You obey, and he helps you over to the dining room table, where you sit in the chair that you always use.

He gestures for you to take out the earplugs. You are hesitant. You do not want to.

But his expression implores you; he appears to know exactly why you don’t want to. He appears to know exactly why things seem so loud.

You manage to slide them out without making too intense of a sound. 

“I’m glad to see you up and about. I’m cooking steak for dinner - how would you like yours?”

Dinner? You looked at the nearby grandfather clock, and you saw that it was 5:00 in the evening.

You go to tell him that you don’t particularly care (you never have before), but you feel a sudden craving for a rarer cut. Damien has always liked his meat rather bloody, so he must be somehow affecting you, due to his close proximity. That happens often, you tell yourself.

You tell him that you’d like it just like his steak, knowing that he always chooses to have the least cooked option while still being edible. You notice that talking is no longer painful.

He appears concerned for half a second, but it passes over so quickly that it could have easily been your imagination. He shoots you a small smile, nods, and stands to go back to the kitchen. You suppose that the steak must have been what you smelled earlier.

You can still see him from where you sit. You watch him cook, while listening to the sizzle of grease and his soft humming of a song that you both know well.

Eventually, he walks back into the dining room, with two plates in hand. He pulls out a chair next to you, setting one plate in front of you, and the other in front of him.

The steak is so rare that the grease it is dripping may easily be blood. It is brown, but you can see red within it. Damien’s is nearly identical.

You cut into the steak, and red fluid flows from the meat. You stab a bite-sized portion with your fork, and bring it to your lips. The outside of the piece is cooked, but barely. The center is a brilliant red.

You take a bite, and wonder why you ever liked the cooked part of meat. The steak is a bit bloody, and the taste coats your tongue. It is delightful.

You scarf down the rest of your steak, so quickly that it would be rude if Damien weren’t doing the same. As the both of you finish your meals, he daintily wipes his mouth with a napkin, acting as though he hadn’t rabidly eaten as though he’d been starved. He shoots you a mischievous smirk, and you return one of your own.

When you set your fork on your plate, the sound sharply pierces your eardrums. You flinch, and, almost offhandedly, you ask yourself why it was so loud.

And then you begin to wonder, really wonder. Why did everything sound so loud? Why could you pick up on smells that you previously didn’t pay attention to? Why was your vision clearer than it had been...ever? Why did you suddenly prefer bloody meat?

How did Damien know about all of it?

You look over at Damien, and it looks like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He knows that you’ve connected the dots, though you have no idea what picture they’ve created. He appears resigned.

“I knew that I couldn’t keep the truth for long. You were always so sharp.” He gives you a small, rueful smile, and continues. “The truth is...I-” he takes a sharp breath, as though steeling himself for something terrible. “I have been cursed, since I was young. On the full moon, I transform into a terrible beast. I do not know what I do, what horrors I may inflict, while I am in this form. I do know that this curse is spread by being bitten by one with the curse.”

He takes a deep breath, and screws up his face as though he were remembering something very painful.

“This past moon, I went into the woods that I always go into. I know them like I know the back of my own hand. I woke up, as the sun rose, and I can taste blood in my mouth. It is all over my face and hands. Beneath me is a body; it is so bloody, so dirty, that I almost do not recognize it. I tilt their head, praying that I do not recognize them, and I see your face. I check for a pulse, and it is there, but faintly. I barely manage to get you back here and patch you up, but the damage is done. Your leg was bitten. My curse is now yours as well, and it is my fault. It’s all my fault...”

He wraps his arms around himself, tightly, and his voice wavers. You can see tears glitter in his eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut, in a vain attempt to keep himself from crying; it doesn’t work.

You wind your arms around him, hugging him gently. He leans into you, with his head on your shoulder. He bites his lip to keep from sobbing. You put one hand on the back of his head, using the other to pat him on the back.

You forgive him.

[vesuvianvienna]

Scarlet Thread

This was a request from @astridthemagician and I swear I meant for this to be a short little fic but 6,500 words later it’s clear that it got away from me a little. Still, it was fun to write! Her apprentice is an absolute doll and I’ve had a blast getting to know her. 

@bazzpop @anjatheapprentice @fernleavesillustrator @goatman-entrapment @arcana-dumpsterfire

For the fifth-or perhaps the sixth-time that evening, Astrid cursed her luck, heavy brows knitted together as she muttered under her breath. Any other time, literally any other day, she would have welcomed the sight of heavy rain clouds, been elated at the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance. But tonight, when she needed the light to see, when she couldn’t rely on her magic to light her way lest she make herself into a target? Of course they would gather to shroud the stars. She grumbled, pausing as she reached the mouth of the woods. The trees loomed above her, swaying gently in the gathering breeze, cool with the promise of an oncoming storm. A shiver ran down her spine, cold dread prickling at the back of her neck. If it wasn’t for the Countess appointing Astrid herself, calling her by name to the palace and asking for her help…

Her hands clenched into fists, pressing to the knife sheathed at her side. It was blessed, meant to be used against her specific quarry, and it helped calm her uneasy heart. While as yet there had been no attacks, there had been sightings all over the city of a creature that walked by night, with bone-white skin and hungry, crimson eyes. A vampire. 

Astrid's background was well-known at the palace; her skills in magic paired with her warrior mother's training made her an asset to the Countess. As such, she was perfect for a job like this, to silence the threat before innocent lives were lost. She shouldered this burden with pride, knew it was hers alone to bear, and yet...why couldn't it have been something she could hunt in the daylight?

Despite her nerves, she took a steadying breath and plunged into the foreboding darkness of the restless forest, relying on the pull of her magic to guide her. Blood was a powerfully magical substance, and the use-or misuse-of it left traces, like tiny crimson threads. Bind a thread to her aura, and it would lead her straight to its source. Astrid, picking carefully through the brush and trying to make as little noise as possible, only hoped the thread wouldn't lead her straight off a cliff. 

It seemed to take hours, though with the stars hidden she had no real way to mark the passage of time. The pull never wavered, never waxed or waned, just seemed to stretch on endlessly into the black, and Astrid sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. Just then, a crack of lightning split the sky, flooding the trees with white-lavender light, and for a split second, six pairs of yellow eyes were illuminated. Wolves. Who knew how long they had been silently stalking her through their territory, waiting for the right moment to pounce? Astrid froze, every nerve in her body screaming at her to run, but they had closed in around her, cutting off her escape. There was no choice but to defend. Swearing under her breath, she summoned energy to her hands, glowing with the force of her magic, before she sent searing light out in all directions, stunning and blinding her lupine adversaries. With the seconds she had, she bolted, darting past their ranks, her heart in her mouth as she heard the snap of angry jaws, biting at the air in a half blind rage. She cursed her luck once more; of course when she needed to be unseen she would be forced to use light magic to defend herself.

The sound of multiple pursuers loping through the undergrowth sent cold dread shooting through her veins, and she ran as fast as her legs could carry her, frantically trying to recall a spell that could help her. A short yell of fear and frustration left her as she suddenly found herself face to face with a sheer rock cliff, no handholds to be seen and no way to go around. Snarls and howls erupted from behind her as the pack caught up, circling her. Astrid gripped her knife, sending up a prayer to whatever entity was listening for a way out of this, to make it back alive somehow. The leader, a large male with slate grey fur and cunning yellow eyes, began stalking toward her, ears laid back against its skull and teeth bared. 

Time seemed to slow as the wolf lunged toward her; she could see the muscles in its legs coil and bunch as it pounced. She countered, holding up an arm to shield herself and thrusting forward with the knife. Claws raked down her arm, not as bad as the bite she was anticipating, and she was rewarded with a yelp as her blade met the shoulder of the beast, drawing a deep wound. Her victory was short lived, as fangs sank into her vulnerable calf, pain shooting glassy and sharp through her body as she was tugged to the ground. Astrid braced herself as best she could for the inevitable killing stroke, hoping that it would at least be over quickly. Instead, she heard a low, otherworldly hiss and looked up to see a dark shape leap into the circle, crouching over her to shield her. The wolves shrank back, yipping nervously as her unknown savior rose to his full height, looming tall and imposing. He said something she couldn't decipher, something low and guttural, and the leader gave a snarl before sulkily withdrawing, the pack following. 

Despite the pain in her leg, Astrid tried to stand, her veins still full of adrenaline. Whoever had saved her could command animals, took the shape of a man, and walked through the darkness as if it were bright as day. If the twist in her gut was anything to go by,  it seemed as if she had found her vampire. The dagger lay off to the side, thrown from her hand when she had fallen, and she tried to grab it only to fall once more, her injured leg giving out beneath her. Instead of the cold ground, however, she was met with a pair of strong, sturdy arms. "Best you don't try walking just yet," a jarringly soothing voice murmured. "I can fix up your leg, but I'll have to take you back to my home and examine you properly. May I carry you?"

Astrid, stunned by the gentle way he spoke and the care with which he handled her, stared up at him. It was impossible to make out his features in the darkness, but she could see the sharp line of a defined jaw, the straight ridge of an aquiline nose, and the barest hint of curved lips. "Who are you," she asked softly. Her rescuer only laughed. 

"We'll have time for introductions later, little one. You've lost quite a bit of blood."

Those strong arms looped around her again, lifting her into the air and against a seemingly broad chest. “Hold on tight,” he advised before they began flying through the forest at breakneck speed, as if she weighed nothing. Astrid’s fingers curled in the lapels of his coat, left feeling drained and shivery from the spent adrenaline finally leaving her system. Though the immediate threat was gone, her night was far from over, and she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly this mysterious stranger had in mind for her.

Soon, they reached a tiny house nestled in the trees, well hidden from view, and he shouldered the door open and carried her inside, setting her down gently on some sort of table. After a moment or two of complete darkness and the sounds of someone moving about, a match was struck, momentarily illuminating what appeared to be a deceptively handsome face. Her rescuer lit a candle, then another, then another, until the room was well lit and Astrid could take better stock of her surroundings. The space was small, just enough room for a potbellied stove, a hearth, a single chair, and the rather overlarge table on which she found herself currently lying. There were no weapons to be seen, no loose objects lying around to defend herself with, and she bit back a curse as she realized she'd left the blessed knife in the forest. Damn it all.

Finally, she looked upon her would-be savior, and her heart picked up a beat or two in pace. He was more handsome than the weak flash of a lit match could illuminate, tall as a tree and slender as a willow. He wore black from his throat to his toes, his hands sheathed in black gloves that covered him to the elbow. Auburn hair fell in waves over his forehead, messy and windswept but still managing to look so soft. And his eyes… Astrid cocked her head to the side as she saw that his right eye was covered with a black patch, while his left was a cool and very human grey. Not red at all. She sat up as best she could, feeling a little dizzy and weak, the pain in her leg and her arm at a throbbing fever-pitch. His gaze darted to her as he saw her moving, and he shook his head, easing her back down onto the table's surface. "Stay still, now. I'll have you patched up in no time."

Astrid could barely hold back a scoff. "You make it sound as if I skinned my knee. I was nearly mauled by wolves."

"Well, you were in their territory." The corner of his mouth had a light, teasing slant to it, and she sighed, dropping her stare. The stranger bent to open a cabinet she hadn't noticed before, sunk into the wall, and over the sound of clinking bottles she could hear him muttering to himself. "First we disinfect, then we can start the healing. You'll be right as rain in a few minutes, dear."

She propped herself up on her good arm to watch him work, her gaze still mistrustful as he soaked a rag with a strong-smelling liquid. Deft fingers tore the leg of her pants up to the knee, an apology in his eye as he carefully brushed away the bits of grass that had stuck to her skin. "This is going to sting, brace yourself." His motions gentle, he began to clean her wound, his concentration not broken even when she hissed and flinched, her hands curling into fists. He cleaned up the blood, which had stopped oozing, and her stomach turned a little at the deep bite to her leg. Still, it was mendable, nothing fatal. His hand slid beneath the crease of her knee, turning her leg this way and that to make sure he had thoroughly disinfected the area, and incredibly, she felt a blush rise on her cheeks, her stomach fluttering in a way that was both odd and strangely pleasant. As if he had heard the blood rush to her cheeks, her rescuer glanced up and gave her a soft smile. "That should do it, I think." A pause as he set the now bloodied rag down, his hand still on her calf, then sensation of leather against her skin strangely tantalizing. "I'm Julian, by the way."

She blinked, then for the first time that evening, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Astrid."

"What a lovely name," he purred, his grin widening. "Now, stay still. This will only take a moment." Julian began to methodically peel off his gloves, leaving his long-fingered hands bare, and slowly drew them down her wounded leg. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as an intricate mark glowed at his throat, the air charged with magic. There was the sensation of warmth, of something trickling down her skin, and miraculously, her leg was whole and uninjured again. Her brow furrowed, and she lifted her leg into the air, examining the unbroken skin. There was no blood, no scar, not even a twinge of pain. He had completely healed her. 

"How on earth did you…?"

He laughed, but the sound was clipped, almost pained. "You'd think a magician would recognize a curse when she sees one." He stood, and nearly collapsed, gripping the table with white-knuckled hands. "Now let's take care of your arm, shall we?"

"Hold on," she said, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the table. Even in the dim light, she could see the right leg of his trousers were dark and glistening, soaked with blood. "What did you do?"

Again came that short, pained chuckle. "I took away your pain, dear. All that damage has to go somewhere." He gave her a strangely soft smile and let one curled finger caress her cheek, his skin cold and smooth. "Don't fret, it'll heal up in a moment or two." It seemed true enough; already he was more steady on his feet, able to stand without buckling. "Now, let's tend to your arm, hm?"

He soaked another clean rag with medicinal liquid and began dabbing at the claw strokes, his good eye fixed on his work. "So tell me, what brought you all the way out here in the dead of night?"

Instinctively, she searched for a lie, still suspicious of his intentions. "I was hunting."

His brow raised. "With only a dagger? Tell me the truth, now."

Astrid was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I was tasked by the Countess to get rid of a vampire that's been sighted within the city walls. The trace led me out here." She paused, then continued, spilling the entire truth. "That dagger was blessed, it's meant to destroy the undead."

Julian was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye. "Has this vampire killed anyone?"

"Not that we know of. But the people live in fear, they want the threat eliminated before any innocent lives are lost."

"Hm. Seems to me if this creature is as bloodthirsty and savage as you seem to think he is, then he could have killed a dozen of your townspeople by now. Have you ever considered that maybe he doesn't mean anyone harm?"

His eye stared up at her, piercing into her with an intensity that scorched her down to her soul, and she saw deep within the grey threads of scarlet, twisted and ragged, identical to the thread that had beckoned her into the forest. She knew then who he was, what he was, and yet, she felt no fear. Only curiosity.

"Why come to the village if not for blood?"

He sighed, at last lowering his gaze. "I...I'm trying to help."

"Help?"

"Your people are falling ill, yes? A mysterious sickness that turns their eyes red?" Astrid nodded. "That plague has been around for decades. I've seen what it can do, and believe me, it's only getting started." His hand lifted, and then deftly removed the patch to reveal a whole, working eye. The iris was the same cool grey, but where there should be white, there was vivid, alarming crimson. "Years ago, I was dying of the same disease, working furiously to find a cure before my time was up. I...I was so desperate to stop the plague that I made a deal with a dark traveler. I gave up my mortality in exchange for the ability to heal. But, as the old saying goes, be careful what you wish for." His upper lip curled back in a grimace, and Astrid could now see the pointed tips of his fangs, white and lethal. "I was turned into this, cursed with a need for blood, and my longing to heal came with a heavy price." His hands fell away from her arm, and for a moment, Astrid could almost feel the crushing weight of his despair, his loneliness, his pain and anger. She couldn't stop herself from reaching for him, running the tips of her fingers across his hand. Julian nearly pulled back at the touch, but smiled instead, turning his hand over to let her trace the lines of his palm.

"What an incredibly human monster you turned out to be," Astrid said softly. Julian chuckled, closing his fingers around hers. "I never did thank you for saving me, did I?"

"No, I suppose not." He flashed her a grin, drawing a veil over the vulnerable sadness in his eyes. "How about you refrain from staking me, and we'll call it even?"

"Deal," Astrid said with a laugh. Julian nodded and tipped her a wink before laying his hands on her arm. "Don't," she murmured, wrapping her hand around his wrist. "It'll heal just fine on its own, and I don't want to hurt you any more tonight."

Julian opened his mouth as if he were about to argue, then closed it and gave her a lopsided smile. "Then let's get you bandaged up, little one." Julian bent once more to retrieve a roll of white gauze from the cabinet, then began carefully winding it around her arm, mindful not to touch her wounds. While he was occupied with his work, Astrid found herself captivated by him, unable to look away from his face, from the studious slant to his brow and the way his lips pursed slightly in concentration. He was...beautiful. Dangerously so.

“So,” she began softly, “how long have you been...like this?”

“A vampire, you mean?” He shrugged, his shoulder rolling in one smooth motion. “I haven’t kept track. Five, maybe six decades.”

“Did it hurt?”

He paused for a moment, then finished tying off the gauze. “Not as much as dying of the plague would have. Why the sudden curiosity?”

“If I’m going to return to the Countess without your heart in a box, I’d better have a damn good reason. I’d like to make the case that you’re no threat to our society, that you’re a good man.”

He let out a soft, derisive huff of laughter. “You’d best prepare another case, then. I am many things, but good isn’t one of them.” Julian straightened, turning away from her and starting to move away, but she caught his arm.

“You could have let the wolves finish me off. You could have left me to bleed out on the forest floor, or die of infected wounds. You could have harmed me so many times tonight, and you didn’t. You’re not human, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be good, Julian.” Her hands found his, tugging him closer, the smooth coolness of his palms pressing against her warmth. “And as much as I want to give the Countess a good report, I want to get to know you for...more selfish reasons.”

For a split second, his eyes narrowed in confusion, then his expression melted into dawning comprehension, and Astrid could have sworn she heard a catlike purr rumble in his throat. “Selfish, hm? Has the huntress fallen prey to her quarry?” Her legs parted on instinct as he moved closer, standing between them nearly pressed against her. Even now, a small part of her insisted that she should be afraid, that she should run on her newly healed legs and never look back. But the ache left in her chest by the tender slide of his fingertips down her throat would not have let her move from that table even if she had wanted to escape his embrace. “I confess,” he breathed, “that ever since I saw you try to fight off an entire pack of wolves with only a knife, when I saw you injured and bleeding and still determined to defend yourself, I wanted to kiss you.” His finger curled beneath her chin, lifting it slightly to tilt her head back. “May I?”

A single nod was all the permission he needed before he bent to capture her lips, his mouth shockingly cold against hers. At first, she was unsure what to do with her hands, how to touch him and where, but the gentle press of his palm at the small of her back, finally bringing her against his chest, had her sliding her arms around his neck. She needed to be closer, needed to feel him against her and know that this wasn’t some delicious dream. Her lips parted as he tugged at the band in her hair, letting the dark strands spill free over her shoulders, his fingers curling through her hair to cup the back of her head. Astrid couldn't be sure if the first moan she heard was hers or his, but as his tongue slipped along hers, the second was hers alone. Her fingers clutched at his coat, her legs lifting to curl around his hips, that ache to be closer sinking deep into her bones, into the very core of her. Had she ever wanted anything so desperately before?

Julian matched her enthusiasm with feverish kisses and breathless noises of pleasure against her lips, dragging her against him as if he would die without her warmth. For a few precious moments, the world was reduced to this, to passion and thrill and touch and taste. When at last they broke apart, chests heaving as if they had run some great distance, the air felt charged, heavy with promise, with anticipation, lust and longing. Made bold by the obvious desire in his eyes, Astrid rolled her hips against Julian’s, her teeth tugging at her lip as she felt the evidence of his arousal and heard a soft, shaky moan of her name. His hand slipped to her thigh, warmed by her skin so that she could barely feel the chill of him, and his mouth lowered to press a single open-mouthed kiss to her pulse. “Not here,” he murmured against her skin, chasing the flutter of life in her veins with a drag of his tongue. “Not on a table like a common whore. You deserve better.” He spoke softly, reverently, his hair tickling her cheek as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. “If...if you want this-”

“Of course I want this,” she interrupted, growing impatient. She lifted his head with her fingertips, forcing him to look into her eyes and see the conviction burning there. “How could I not?”

His brow furrowed, a line appearing at the bridge of his nose, as if he couldn’t comprehend the notion of someone wanting him. “You don’t owe me anything for saving you-”

Again, she cut him off. “I don’t want you because I feel like I’m in your debt. I want you because I want you. There’s no deeper meaning, no ulterior motive. You’re kind, and gentle, and a hell of a kisser.” Remarkably, he blushed at that, averting his gaze but looking pleased nonetheless. 

"Then," he said softly, barely above a whisper, his hands sliding up her thighs to grasp her hips, "may I take you to bed?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Julian's grin could rival the sun as he lifted her from the table, his arms secure around her waist as she wrapped herself around him. Her lips left spots of heat on his throat, like tiny flames, twin coals, warm and alive. For at least tonight, this warmth was his to keep, to cherish. There was a door she hadn't noticed on the other side of the room that led to a slightly bigger chamber, a bed made with dark sheets in luxurious fabrics commanding most of the space. Astrid sighed as Julian laid her down on the bed, one knee depressing the mattress as he knelt above her. Her hands slid to his cheeks, cool and smooth as casket satin, and her heart lurched in her chest at the way his eyes closed, leaning into her palm as if there were salvation in her touch. 

"Kiss me again," she commanded softly, drawing him down to her, rivulets of desperate heat running deep through her veins. He surrendered with a groan deep in his throat, throwing one long leg over her, his larger frame completely covering her small one as he drank from her lips, a sweet oasis in the desert of his self-imposed isolation. Something in these kisses had changed besides the scenery; some deep promise lurked behind each press of parted lips, something thrumming and wild. Astrid let out a soft mewl, her body beginning to writhe beneath him, unable to keep still. "Julian," she breathed, and he shivered with delight at the sound of his name. "Touch me."

His lips brushed down the column of her neck, tongue pressed to her pulse, and yet his hands didn't move from where they sunk into the bed by her shoulders. His teeth were cautious and gentle as he nipped at her collarbone, her back arching up towards his mouth as he laid slow kisses along the line of her decolletage. "Julian," she repeated, the word nearly a whine. "Please, touch me." 

At last his hand slid up her arm, but the caress was light, barely there. She nearly growled in frustration; she didn't was tender sensuality, feather light touches and whispers in the dark. She wanted to be smothered by him, to wear the marks of his passion for days after their parting, to feel the weight of him bearing down on her. She wanted her body to remember him. Astrid cupped his chin in her hand, lifting his gaze to hers. "Harder. I'm not going to break, Julian." Her thumb traced his lower lip, a thrill of warm delight making her stomach clench as his tongue swept against it. "Love me like you're never going to see me again."

He was still for a moment, his eyes searching hers as if looking for traces of doubt, before he let out a feral noise of desperation and clenched fistfuls of her shirt in his hands, parting the fabric with one swift yank. The satisfaction of his hands on her breasts, sinking deep into yielding flesh, made her squeal and wrap her legs around his hips, moaning as his lips closed around her nipple. Pleasure as sharp as a bee sting made her hips buck against his as his teeth raked over sensitized flesh, sucking and nipping at each nipple in turn until they were dark and aching. The harsh purr of tearing fabric and frantic, heavy breathing were the only sounds as he divested her of her clothes, tossing them carelessly to the floor until she lay naked and panting before him. Julian swore under his breath as he sat back and pulled her legs apart, his stare pinned to the meeting of her thighs. "Oh, Astrid…” The words were breathless, as if the sight of her bare had knocked the air out of him. “You’ll be the death of me yet, sweet girl.”

A soft laugh left her; as if she could even think of ending his life now, when his hands were sliding up her legs, lingering briefly over the flesh he had made whole. Her thighs trembled at his touch, her breath quickening as he neared her center, and oh, the first brush of those cold, clever fingers over her heat sent electricity racing through her body, all the breath rushing from her lungs in a moan. Julian seemed captivated by her, by the sight of his fingers spreading her folds, caressing their petal softness, exploring every inch of her warm, wanting flesh until her hips rocked and she begged for more. “Please, Julian, I can’t stand it.”

The sound of her begging, breathless, and desperate sent a red flush across his cheeks, and he let out a soft sound of pleasure, unbuttoning his coat and shrugging out of it, the open neck of his shirt exposing his chest, which Astrid was pleased to see was red as well. “Far be it from me to deny you anything, little one.” Gently, with her thighs draped over his, he began pushing one long finger inside of her, just to the first knuckle, then the second, then as the fingers of his other hand began to stroke her clit, he slid it inside all the way. The way she keened and rolled her hips made him shiver, and soon he added a second finger, curling them inside to tap gently against that hidden sweet spot. Astrid’s head flew back, pitch-dark hair spread like seeking shadows on the pillow, moaning his name, shouting curses and praises in the same breath, flushed and shaking. The sight of her unlacing, splitting at the seams just from his hands alone was nearly his unmaking, and Julian quickened his pace, hungry to please her, to shatter her. 

“Surrender to it, sweetheart.”

Mere moments later, she was breaking, flying apart, legs shaking as she grabbed desperate fistfuls of his bedcovers, his name dripping from her lips. The entire night could have passed her by in that instant, and she would have been oblivious to every moment of it, her body and soul consumed by the wicked pleasure of his hands. At last, she fell back against the bed, feeling disjointed and weak. How could she feel so heavy and yet at the same time feel like she was floating? Julian’s touch grounded her, reminded her where she was and the dangerously sensual creature that had her in his grasp, and she lifted her head to give him a dreamy, starry-eyed smile. “That’s more like it,” she rasped, and both laughed. 

“Vixen.”

Julian grasped her hips and with a strength that surpassed most, he flipped her over onto her stomach, his fingers wrapping around her ankles and pulling her legs open once more, each foot dangling off an opposite side of the bed. His lips seemed warmer now as he kissed up the curvature of her spine, keeping her spread with his knees and rutting his hardness against her backside. When he reached her neck, he let his lips brush over the shell of her ear before lifting his fingers to his mouth, sucking the taste of her off of them, able to feel her shiver, feel the vibration of her moan against his chest. “Delicious,” he purred.

“Julian, please.”

“There you go, begging again.” He chuckled, brushing a tender kiss behind her ear before sitting up and removing the rest of his clothes. A thrill shot through her like an arrow as she felt him lying over her, naked skin to naked skin, cool and sinuous and aching. “You don’t need to beg me, darling, I’m all too happy to give you what you want.” Astrid groaned as she felt his hardness slip through her folds, Julian’s low hiss at the searing pleasure of her fiery slick sending a shudder down her spine. He wanted to draw this out a little, put his patience to the test, but the way she pushed back against him, arching her back and mewling his name utterly broke him. All the oxygen left the room as he pushed inside of her; neither took a breath for a moment or two, adjusting to the alarming surge of pleasure as yearning bodies were joined at last. Slowly, as if afraid to move too fast, his hips began to rock, muffling his moans in her shoulder, resisting the urge to bite. “So soft…”

As he set the pace, rolling and crashing like waves upon shores of damask and satin, Astrid was grateful for his weight over her, holding her to the bed, fearful that without his gravity she would be lost to the vast, warm waters of sinful ecstasy. His legs wound around hers, her back curved and her hips pushing back, craving him, needing that delicious fullness. His hand covered hers, fingers weaving between her own to press it into the bed, leaving slow kisses across her neck and shoulders. They didn’t speak much; there was no need, all that needed to be said was conveyed in the motion of their bodies, the pitch and vibration of their moans, nearly two perfect octaves apart, in the way she laid her head back against his shoulder and in the way he squeezed her hand when he bottomed out inside of her.

But it wasn’t enough. If this was his only night with her, then he needed more, needed to feel her in his arms, needed to hold her tight enough to feel the thundering of her heart so that when she left him, he would feel the echoes of it in the empty nights to come. His arms banded around her as he sat back, pulling her upright and leaning her back against his chest, her legs draped over his thighs as he continued to roll up into her. One arm curled around her middle, holding her in place, while the other hand grasped at her breast, groaning against the back of her neck at the warm softness. “Comfortable?” She nodded, gasping and writhing, overwhelmed with sensation as the change of position made her head spin. How exquisitely intimate, to feel him inside of her, to feel his lips on her skin, and to feel his arms around her all at the same time. Astrid felt surrounded by him, safe and secure in his embrace, her heart aching even as it raced. Even if whatever this was lasted no longer than tonight, she knew that from this moment on, she was changed, his mark already etched upon her soul. She wanted to leave some small piece of her with him, some small token, something precious. So she raised a shaking hand, palm up, and bent back her hand to expose the delicate blue veins at her wrist. 

“Drink.” 

He slowed, but didn’t stop, grasping her chin and tilting her face up to gauge her expression. Before he could ask if she was sure, convince her that there was no need, Astrid shook her head. “Drink from me. Just a little, please. I want...I want something of mine to stay with you. To remember me by.”

Julian was silent for a moment, then the corners of his mouth upturned in a gentle smile, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “Just a taste,” he promised before lifting his head and bringing her offered wrist to his mouth. His lips drew back, baring dagger-sharp teeth that easily pierced the thin veil of skin. The pain was brief, but God, the pleasure that flooded her veins as he sipped at her was indescribable, incomprehensible. Music transcribed into physical touch, every moment of joy translated into the phantom brush of silk against her very soul. She had grown limp against him, her body as pliant as warm wax, and soon he withdrew with a short gasp, a single scarlet thread unraveling down from the corner of his mouth. Astrid didn’t see the flash of the mark at his throat or the way his fingers closed around her wrist, healing her bite wounds in an instant, the translated marks on his wrist sealing just as quickly. 

Julian could feel the dawn approaching like static electricity in the air, prickling at the back of his neck, and he doubled his pace, frantic for her, heartsick that their time together was drawing to a close. Oh, he was close, balanced on the edge of a knife, half-crazy with pleasure and blood-induced euphoria; a single breath could send him falling into sweet, beckoning oblivion. His hand slipped between her hips to rub at her clit, her hair spilling against his skin as she threw her head back and keened, sensitive to every stroke. “That’s it,” he crooned, holding her close, closing his eyes and pretending in secret that, for these few precious moments, that she was his. “Come for me, little one. Take me over the edge with you.”

Oh. Oh. The way she broke, spiderweb cracks widening and bursting under pressure, held no equal in beauty or rarity. Her second orgasm snatched her voice away, the air locked in her lungs as every muscle in her body drew taut, her nails digging into his skin as she clung to him with every ounce of her mortal strength. That tiny hint of pain, the final dash of salt on the perfect meal, was the last push he needed, and as she clenched so tight around him it nearly hurt to move, he spilled himself inside of her with a desperate cry.

Astrid didn’t recall if Julian had lowered her to the bed, or if she had collapsed out of exhaustion, but the sheets felt delicious against sensitized skin, cool and inviting. She was pleased to feel him settle down beside her trembling form, overjoyed as he pulled her close and covered her with sweet little raindrop kisses. “Are you alright? Any dizziness or lightheadedness? I didn’t take too much, did I?”

She couldn’t help a soft, breathless laugh. “You fret like a mother hen. I’m fine, Julian. More than fine.” With a body that still didn’t seem quite connected to her mind, she turned and wrapped herself around him, snuggling against his chest, not even a little disturbed at the lack of heartbeat. “There’s an hour or so until the sun rises...we don’t have to go anywhere just yet.”

An inexplicable lump rose to his throat, and he nodded, stroking her hair as she laid against him. “Mmm...go ahead and rest as long as you need to, little one.”

Astrid hadn’t planned on falling asleep, but mercifully, she didn’t doze for more than a couple of hours; the sun hadn’t risen over the treetops by the time she roused herself. The soft golden light of sunrise flooded the room, and her heart sank as she realized Julian was nowhere to be seen. Where he had laid, however, was something long and metallic. Her knife. She smiled as she slid out of the bed, stretching aching muscles; he must have gone and retrieved it while she slept. Mending her torn clothes didn’t take very long, and she dressed and slipped out of the cottage, back out into the woods. In the light of day, finding her way back to Vesuvia would be easy enough, and soon she was at the edge of the forest, the city walls rising against the sun. She paused, turned back, and on a whim she cast her magic out in the direction she had come from. That scarlet thread, the one that had led her to him, the same she had seen deep in his eyes was still present, but now there was another identical thread wound around it. While the first had wrapped around her wrist, pulling her into the woods, this newly forged thread sank into her chest, tied tightly around her heart. Astrid smiled. Blood magic was strong magic indeed, and she knew that whatever happened, she would be seeing her mysterious savior, her benevolent healer, her sweet Julian again.

[midnigtartist]

No particular request, just a warm up Widomauk drabble

Time has made it more tolerable, but Caleb is certain that he will never be anything but unnerved by the heavy, meaty sound of a body as it slides off the end of Mollymauk’s sword, hitting the ground with a thud. The tiefling flashes him a roguish grin, spinning his blood soaked, ice laced semitar in hand. Its strange energy cast a dancing, cold blue light across the damp cellar walls. Caleb reciprocates with a smile of his own, lip pressed tight, the corners twitching upward into a crooked grin which Molly seems to thrill at sight of. He flashes a bit of fang, sparing Caleb a quick wink before he takes off sprinting. Caleb watches him go, listens to the sound of his boots pounding against the slick floor, stomping through puddles even once he’s rounded the far corner.

What had at first seemed like a quick clean up job had quickly turned into a tunnel crawl, as the Nein soon discovered that the cellar was connected to network of twisting catacombs. Merrow slither up and down dank halls, dragging bloated bodied across broken stone with no clear indication of which direction they’re coming from. The low ceilings and the cold, damp air, the deep shadows and maze like structure of the catacombs have everyone's hackles raised. Worried for what it might mean to become lost in the twisting tunnels, Caleb has taken to dragging the tips of his fingers along the slick walls, bringing up the rear as he puts the stone to memory, forming a mental map to guide the group back out. However, as more and more merrow slink their way out of the crumbling tunnels and darkened alcoves the Nein has been spread rather thin. Now that Mollymauk has run on ahead Caleb finds himself completely alone, save for Frumpkin, wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf, and his dancing lights.

“Eh- that is alright, though.” he says to the open air. “Mollymauk will not have gone too far.” Each step is deafening in the empty hall, his fingers twitch up to tug at the glove of blasting.”And- uh-you know, Caduceus is not to far behind us”

And he and Nott have their copper wires, he assures himself, patting down the pocket at his left hip to feel the bulk of the spool against his palm. “So everything is alright”

Frumpkin murmurs in what Caleb hopes is agreement, and so he pushes on. Fingers dragging across jagged stone, memorizing each dip in the tunnel under his boots, every dripping stalactite that he passes.

“This is alright” he mutters, cold, wet stones echoing his mantra back to him. “They would not leave you down here alone. We are a- a team, ja. No , they would not leave you. This is fine.”

He could stop, hunker down against the wall and hope that their other cleric has not himself gotten lost. He could do that, it's honestly far more appealing than the alternative, which is to run ahead into the unknown darkness in an attempt to chase Mollymauk down. Caleb instead, decides to compromise. Carefully he unwinds Frumpkin from his person and sets the fey cat on the ground.

“Go find Mollymauk” he instructs the cat. His bushy ginger tail flicks once in understanding and then Frumpkin disappears down the hall as well.

More alone now then ever, Caleb tucks his hands under his arms and leans up against the slick wall.

“Everything is going just fine.” he says again, in the hopes that he might start believing it. What is it their strange circus man says? Change your attitude, change your perspective? So perhaps if Caleb focus less on the fact that he is a very squishy wizard, separated from his companions in a catacomb crawling with merrow, maybe if he stops thinking back on tales of haunted crypts full of the shambling undead that mothers would tell their misbehaving children, maybe then he will feel less like spilling his guts over the wet tunnel floor.

Five minutes pass, hardly five minutes have passed since he’s sent Frumpkin on ahead before Caleb hears the distant clash of metal and muffled shouting, coming from up ahead. Panic seizes Caleb’s chest like a vice. It's a risky thing, but a calculated risk, that he drops his sight and hearing and shifts his scenes to Frumpkin, instead.

The sounds of battle reach him before anything else and when he blinks into Frumpkin’s sight he sees many pairs of familiar boots. Seems that the rest of the Nien have stumble upon each other, as well as the merrow’s nest. He counts, one, two, three, four, five wretched fish men surrounding Jester, Beau, Molly and Nott. Their massive bodies blocking exits, making it hard to maneuver. They hiss and scream in voices not made to manipulate air, thrashing wildly with pointed claws.

Jester’s spectral lollipop strikes one, stunning it momentarily but hardly moving it, its scales and muscle just too heavy. Nott is up on Beau’s shoulders, trying to gain vantage on marks that are far too close, while Beau struggles to maneuver with a forty pound goblin on her back. Her staff hits the  floor with a resounding crack that makes Caleb finch, missing the merrow’s skull by a solid foot. The  creature rears back, but as it brings is webbed fist down it shrieks, bring its other hand up to clutch at its face. The clawed fist falters, catching Beau on the calf, rather than tearing onto something more vital.

“Fuck!” she shouts, kicking the merrow back with her heel. “Seriously dude?”

Behind the merrow, Mollymauk shrugs. “Trying to help” he shoots back. Blood dribbles from the crimson spot on his neck. It's all he manages to get out before he’s slammed to the ground by a thick tail.

A second merrow screams, hefting its bulk over Mollymauk before he can stand, effectively pinning him the ground. It screams again, lunging at a his neck with its jagged teeth bared and there’s a moment between the attack and the golden glint of Mollymauk’s sword pressing the creature back by the jaw where a shot of primal fear wells up like bile in Caleb’s chest.

Caution be damn, he thinks, dropping out of Frumpkin’s eyes. As soon as he can hear and see and move damn it move, he pushes his trembling legs forward, sprinting into the darkness.

It’s luck, he thinks, and his own innate sense of true north that prevents him from stumbling blindly in the wrong direction, because in the cave like tunnel systems of the crypt the shouts of his allies seem to echo from every hallway. He counts footfall as he runs, how many had Mollymauk taken away from him? He counts heartbeats, how many of them before he reaches the others? As he rounds another bend a flash of color along the far wall confirms the other’s location. Caleb is not an athletic man, his lungs burn and his side is aching but instead of slowing down he takes a gasping breath and runs faster.

The hall opens up into a tight space, no larger than a common cellar, entrances on either side. The scene, not so unlike he’d left it, with the exception of two bloodied merrow corpses on the ground, their blood mixing with the stagnant water and Mollymauk is backup on his feet. Breathless, Caleb staggers against the wall trying to asses his options. There are still three merrow, two crowding in on Mollymauk, Nott and Beau, while the third is pressing Jester back into the corner. An arrow flies, striking the merrow in the side of the head. It howls, dissonant voice grating like metal on metal. The howl quickly becomes a gurgle as, in a flash of pink Mollymauk blinks into existence at its side. He thrusts his blades up- up through the center of its chest. It loses a pitiful noise, and slumps forward. Mollymauk grunts under the sudden weight.

With that one taken care of Cable instead turns his attention to other two, closing in on Nott and Beau. He aims a firebolt at the one. It strikes the creature in the side. It wheels around to face him, and as it does Beau staff cracks down on the top of its head. It collapses to the floor in a heap of limbs

“Nice of you to join us!” Mollymauk calls. He’s got a boot up on the shoulder of the merrow he’d just killed, trying to tug his swords free from between its ribs. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth

Caleb, in response, offers him a small, nervous smile and tries very hard not to worry about the blood steadily pooling along Mollymauk jaw. At least now he is up and standing.

The final merrow, sensing that it's outnumbered now, lets out a horrid scream, lashing around so that it now faces Mollymauk. Mollymauk who’s still struggling with his semitars. Caleb can’t react fast enough, but Jester can. Her lollipop comes shrieking at the merrow, slamming into its side. It slows  but it doesn’t stop.

“Molly, watch out!” she shouts.

Mollymauk glances over his shoulder, sees the merrow coming his way. The vein on his neck burst and the merrow hisses in agony as its eyes fill with blood. This doesn’t stop it. Writhing and howling, its tail twisting grotesquely on the damp stones, the merrow swings its taloned claw out in wild reaching arch. It catches Molly across the face and he’s sent spinning. When he falls, he falls in slow motion, the world around him a blurry watercolor and oh, some still lucid part of Caleb’s brain whispers, oh this is the first time Molly has fallen since his most fatal fall on the Glory Run Road.  That though becomes a roar, and the roar fills Caleb’s ears and thunders in his veins and flexes through his fingers as his hand gives a sharp tug on the glove blasting. Two of the three flare slam into the merrow, which gives a final, choked scream before it too collapses to the floor. Caleb can hear its flesh crackle and its skin pop under the heat of the inferno. Were he not watching Molly so intently, perhaps smell of it would have him unnerved. As it were, he’s too busy counting seconds, too busy counting heart beats. Molly doesn’t stand.

He counts the steps, one, two, three, four, it takes for Jester to reach him

She lays glowing hands over his chest and Molly jerks forward into Jester’s arms, cough up the blood on the back of his tongue. Jester gives him a good few whacks on the back with her fist, before quickly bundling him up into a hug.

Caleb counts breaths, watching the rise and fall of Molly’s chest even out. He feels his fingers twitch up into a fist.

Feet pound in from different directions. Fjord appears from the tunnel ahead with Yasha at his heels and a moment later, Caduceus enters from the tunnel behind.

“Y’all alright? We heard fightin’” Fjord asks. He glances over a Beau, who’s holding her leg out for Clay to inspect (“You think it’s infected?” “Probably”) over to Molly and Jester on the ground.

Molly pushes himself to stand.  “Took a little tumble” Molly says, dusting over his pants. “Nothing to write home about.”

“Mollymauk can I speak with you for a moment.” Caleb says. His outburst is sudden and his tone firm. Molly seems to senses this, his smile faltering, a rare crease forming between his brows. A hush instantly falls over the room.

“Course.” Molly says. He gives curt little nod, indicating Caleb to lead the way, and so he does.

Caleb leads them back out into the hall they’d come from, just far enough to be out of sight of the doorway before he stops them.

In the low light Caleb’s human eyes can just barely make out the thin line of  worry in Molly’s face.

His fingers graze Caleb’s elbow tentatively, and Caleb resists the urge to roll his eyes. He is not made of glass, as simple touch will not break him, or he would have shattered long ago.

“You doing alright, dear?’ Molly asks, so sweetly.

“Nein” Caleb says, not so sweetly, and he wraps his fist around the lapel of Mollymauk’s coat.

He doesn’t kiss him kindly. There is no bubbling nervousness in the way he kisses Molly. He does not kiss him like this is the first kiss he has had in over a decade. Instead he bares his teeth, nips at Molly’s lower lip and Molly moans against his mouth.  He kisses Mollymauk like statement, like a correction, kisses like a man making an amendment.  He could not, had not been able to kiss him before and in doing so had nearly lost the opportunity. Selfish man that he is, Caleb will not allow it to pass him up second time.

When he finally pulls away, the air between them is damp. Caleb feels the trembling of Molly’s fingers against his wrist and he sighs.

“I waste so much time for a man so obsessed with it.” he says dully. “I should have done that the moment you were back.”

Molly’s watches him curiously, silently repeating the words as if he’d misheard them. Whatever tension that had filled his chest, all the worry and the fear and the dread,  is suddenly lifted, stolen away on Molly’s breath. A wry smile crack across Caleb’s face.

“Do not act so surprised, Mollymauk, this has ah- been a long time coming, ja?” he reaches up, patting Molly’s cheek once, twice, letting his fingers linger against the peacock feathers there. “You will try to be more careful in the future, won’t you?”

“Mr. Caleb, if you’re going to kiss me like that, I must say, I think I may be more inclined to throw myself into bodily harm.” Molly says, pressing their foreheads together.

Caleb gives him a pointed look, and Molly smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth

“Can’t make any promises, dear, but I will try to behave.”

[thornbolts]

🔮from Iri to Remy!

“Iri,” the forsaken offered a single purple-headed mushroom forward from the center of her skeletal hand. “I’ve never tried these before. But they’re supposedly ta make ya experience a memory from the other person.”

Remy chewed on three of the mushrooms. And the flickering yellow light in her skull orbit and eye began to dim…

Remington Thornbolt’s breathing grew more and more shallow. The wound in her side was dressed to the best of her father’s ability. But she could feel her consciousness slipping further and further away.

One of the undead had taken a chunk out of her flank. And if the plague didn’t kill her, the huntress would be done in by blood loss. The rifle in her hands felt heavier by the second, but she grit her teeth and raised it, letting out a forceful yell as she blasted another walking corpse right through the head. 

Skull and brain matter flew everywhere as she worked the lever of the firearm, ejecting the cartridge out and fitting a new bullet into the chamber as the tide of undead began to draw closer.

Four shots.

She was trapped, her back propped up against a sturdy, bloodstained oak tree. Remy had worked with Gregory to find survivors, and they found several: A father and son, a grandmother and granddaughter, two siblings, and a ten-year old boy.

It was worth it. Every undead after her was one fewer chasing after the group.

Remy chuckled with grim resolution as she saw the tall silhouette of her father being held back by the survivors. He wanted to come and carry her out of there, but that would just end up with both of them dead at this point.

Gregory wailed as he was pulled back by the survivors. One of them shook his head. There wasn’t any saving his daughter, and his daughter was serenely fine with just that. 

You do you, pops. I’ll do me. Lemme decide how I go out.

“I’ve lived long, well, and survived many ‘a trials.” She raised her rifle again, blasting another undead through the jaw. It gurgled. The huntress weakly raised her rifle and smashed its skull in with the butt of the firearm.

Three.

“Ain’t ever find love, but I ain’t need it.” BANG! Another undead fell to her feet, clawing at her calf. Remy gasped for air as she hefted up her axe and brought the weapon down onto its head with all the force she could muster.

Two.

“Only thing I regret is no one’ll write a story about my last stand.” Another corpse stumbled its way toward Remy’s position. It lunged in for a bite. She felt its rotting, slimy teeth dig into her neck. 

The pain was unbearable. She stuck the muzzle of her rifle into the creature’s underchin and thumbed the trigger. BANG! The woman was showered in red as the creature’s teeth loosened off of her flesh.

One.

“Ma, looks like I’ll be joinin’ ya soon.” 

So hard… To stay awake… Everything’s gettin’ cold. I can’t feel anythin’…

The tide of undead completely encircled her at this point. She raised her rifle once more, pressing the muzzle underneath her chin…

BANG!

Another undead’s head was blown clean off by the shot. Remy choked on her gurgling laughter, unable to find the strength to lift the firearm once more. Her eyelids grew weary as she lolled her head against the tree’s rough, bloodstained bark.

Empty.

Remy tightened her fingers around the haft of her axe as her eyelids closed over her vision for the last time…

Looks like we’ll have ta wait awhile fer pops, ma.

[powerof3in1]

Apocalypse Now; Journey Home [ II.]

   Days had gone by without a word from her family; she couldn’t blame them, really, she had no way of contacting them from where she was either. It didn’t help the dread though settled in her gut not knowing what was going on and if they were alright. The block had been up since the outbreak had begun, no signs of coming down and no viable way to get through or around it. The Floo Network was still shut down. Cellular service was still offline. The streets were less chaotic now, as people stopped flooding them and stayed inside. The ones that were left anyhow. 

   The quarantine didn’t last long from what she heard. Didn’t have a chance to even really stick. There were too many people affected by...whatever it was making them go crazy. The ones they could contain eventually were either killed or killed their captors. The cycle was continuous.  The students were sent home to their families a day and a half ago, the staff heading off to their families as well. The professors that had no families or home to return to stayed within the castle. Prue continued to meet with McGonagall about what else could be done to secure the school and its grounds. The witch decided to get some air for a moment after a long conversation with the Headmistress and a few others. She just needed a break from it all. 

    The halls were quieter than she’d ever known them to be. The ghosts even seemed to be on edge, sticking to inside the walls and the people in the paintings weren’t scrambling about either. It was sullen, to say the least, and quite dreary. She’d been at this school since she was a child...even before she was old enough to be a student. Hogwarts was her home for so long and to see it like this... so empty and sad... Even during the Battle with Voldemort and afterwards, among the rubble and chaos of those events, it was still Hogwarts. It still stood with pride and camaraderie. Maybe it was the lack of students bustling about the halls or professors hurrying those students to their classrooms. It just seemed so depressing without minds to be taught and laughter and learning... Prue wandered the halls a bit, reminiscing the past with her best friends; even the darkest of times didn’t seem as bad as whatever this is. They always seemed to get through it all..together. Maybe they would get through this too. In the moment, all of their battles seemed hopeless at times...desperate and unwinnable. Perhaps this was another one of those battles..it seemed hopeless now but later on it will all just be a memory of another hardship.  The difference this time, though, is that they were all separated. Their strength usually came from each other and now nobody knew where anybody was or if they were okay ... if they were alive. Prue’s thoughts swam in clouded fishbowl of memories, almost like a pensieve but much duller. It wasn’t until she heard a soft shuffling that she was pulled from those thoughts back to her surroundings. All the students should have been evacuated, she thought to herself, listening as the sound grew louder. “Hello?” She moved towards the sound, hoping it was just a ghost making noise---for the first time in her entire life hoping to see Peeves trying to spook her or something. The train back to King’s Cross wouldn’t be back for .. well, she wasn’t even sure if it was still running with the ban up. “Every student should have cleared out the other day. Are you alright? Do you need help contacting your guardians?” Her questions, however, were only greeted with more shuffling and..gurgling? “Hello?” She asked again, more concerned now. “Do you need help? Come out so I can help you, please. Are you chok--ing...” Before she could finish asking the last one, she saw him. A small boy, shambling towards her, dragging his feet along the floor as he moved slowly ahead. His attention perked up when he saw her, beginning to move a bit faster, still shuffling and growling. Prue’s eyes widened, backing away as he came swiftly towards her. He was grabbing at the air as though reaching would bring them closer. He had the same glossed over look in his eyes that the people she’d seen on the street and the news did. Her heart plummeted into the depths of her gut, chest so tight it threatened to collapse on itself. Those people out on the streets were adults.. this was a young boy. Every cell in her body was screaming to get him to a hospital but she knew, deep down, that a hospital wouldn’t be able to help him. Not like this. 

    She kept moving backwards while the boy crept up faster until she finally pulled out her wand and flicked it in the air in his direction with a hoarse, “STUPIFY!” Watching as he froze up, body stiffened and tipped over, Prue swallowed hard, shaking at the sight. She carefully made her way over to where he lay frozen by the spell, eyes darting over his small body in search of injury. His skin was so pale, almost grey in colour and his robes were bloody. She moved his robes out of the way, lifting the hem of his jeans to reveal a fresh bite mark on his calf. She fell back, shaking even more now, slapping a hand over her mouth in horrid realization. This boy was bitten by something.. someone. Like the ones out there.. But how could he have been bitten inside the castle? Nobody had gotten in since they locked it down days ago and ....       “No,” she whispered, barely audible, climbing to her feet. She needed to find McGonagall and fast and tell her about this. She didn’t want to leave the boy in the hall but she didn’t have much of a choice. She couldn’t carry him and even if she tried, the spell could wear off and she’d be in serious trouble in that case. “Crystals.” She called quietly, orbing the crystals she had in her room to her hands. She placed five recently charged quartz crystals around the boy’s body to form a cage he wouldn’t be able to escape from and nobody else would be able to penetrate. Clenching her jaw, she turned to start heading to the towers when she heard similar shuffling coming from the opposite direction. She turned to see not one, but several children of different ages, and a substitute professor staggering quickly in her direction. “Oh fuck.” Prue set off at a run, hurrying away from the group of shamblers but they were fast... She ducked into a small corridor that not many knew about behind a statue off to the right. Pressing her back to the wall, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath before peering out again. She wanted to let them pass her so she could freeze them, but they weren’t all quite past the statue and one of them must’ve caught her scent as she turned around rather quickly and snarled directly in Prue’s face. It didn’t take the girl long to reach out to try and grab Prue but the witch was faster. She shifted, tossing her head backwards; she only wished she hadn’t caught the edge of the stone statue as she did, a sharp inhale with the pain piercing her skull but adrenaline keeping her moving. She threw her hands up instinctively, not bothering with her wand this time and froze the lot with her own magic. They stopped moving as a group, stuck in place where they stood. Prue squeezed out from between the statue and the girl in front of her with outstretched arms and snapping jaw.  This time, though, she hadn’t bothered making the trek on foot. She orbed directly into McGonagall’s office, desperately hoping to find her there. Luckily for Prue, she was. Sitting at her desk, her worried expression almost mimicked Prue’s own about an hour beforehand. “Miss Halliwell,” Minerva’s head quirked up at the sudden entrance, her concern only increasing as she noticed Prue’s heavy breaths and her own terrified expression. The elder witch immediately rose from her desk and moved to Prue’s side, an arm around her shoulders as she guided her to a chair. “What is it, Prudence? What happened?” Prue couldn’t seem to find the words to describe what just happened, but she knew that she had no choice. The safety of the people left here depended on it and Prue wasn’t going to jeopardize that, regardless of how shaken she was at the moment. “Th--There’s .. they’re here, Professor. In the castle. The sick ones, they.. There are children out there... I mean, in the halls and such. They chased me through the Main Hall, Professor. I left .. a boy. I thought he was the only one but,” she shook her head, tears in her eyes. “What’re we going to do, Minerva? They’re only children...” Prue’s hand shot straight to her mouth, teeth instantly biting into fingernail. McGonagall grabbed Prue’s hands hastily, yet gently. “Honestly, Prudence, you’ve been chewing those nails of yours since you were a tot, it’s about time to break that habit, don’t you think?” Prue furrowed her brows, head tilted as she looked at her Godmother. “Are you-- Is now really the time to be picking apart my bad habits? There are students out there trying to...bite...people. And there’s a substitute professor among them--” McGonagall seemed to go pale as Prue spoke. Perhaps her pointing out Prue’s habits was a comfort thing for her..a sense of nostalgia in a time of crisis. She kept a grip on Prue’s hands, seemingly lost in thought. It wasn’t often that Minerva McGonagall was speechless, let alone completely lost for words. It worried Prue, to say the least. “Aunt Minerva,” It was rare for Prue to use McGonagall’s first name, she really only ever called her Professor (as instilled by the woman when Prue began school, so she wouldn’t be teased or tormented over any rumours of nepotism), but in these instances, when it mattered, she addressed her on their familial level. “What are we going to do?” The older woman peered down at her goddaughter with a heavy and saddened gaze. “I’m afraid, there’s not much we can do, Prudence. The hospitals are no longer taking anyone in..and our own hospital wing won’t survive the night. Madam Pomfrey cannot treat what she cannot diagnose.” She started walking towards her desk again, hands loosely slipping from around Prue’s, her voice matched the sadness in her eyes. “We may have to put them down ourselves, or rather, I will do it, if you can help me wrangle them to one location. I won’t ask you to--” “You can’t do that yourself..You’ll go mad having to do that. No, I’ll help you, I can..” “Prudence, I know you. You’ve never harmed a living thing if you could help it. You cried for days when Hagrid told you he was going to exterminate the flesh eating slugs when you were four. This is not something I take lightly and never would I ask you to take part in.” “You can’t do this alone,” “There are other teachers on the grounds who can help with this part, there is no reason that you .. should...” Her words were interrupted by a scream, causing both women to jump before running out down the staircase towards the sound. When they arrived at the bottom, however, they both felt sick to their stomachs at the sight awaiting them. The newest temporary member of their staff, Trinka Frye, who was on her way to becoming a full time professor at Hogwarts, was being mauled and chewed to bits by another young boy. Terror and pain filled the woman’s eyes as she tried to gargle out a cry for help when she saw Prue and McGonagall. Unfortunately, the boy had realized the pair was there as well and his attention was now on a new potential two-for-one meal. Prue pushed Minerva backwards, freezing the boy. She could feel McGonagall shaking, clearly not having witnessed this part of the outbreak yet..and especially not with their own involved, much less a child. Prue wasn’t about to make her do it.. she knew that she had to be the one. She turned the shaking McGongall back towards the stairs-- everything seemingly moving in slow motion as the boy started pushing through her freeze. The witch’s eyes widened again (honestly they might stay that way with how often it’s been happening the past week) but she took a deep breath and shook her head as if to clear it of any and everything before raising her wand. This was the very last thing she’d wanted to do .. .ever. She never thought she would ever have to use this bloody spell...A spell she despised.. The very Curse that took so many important lives from her and others. But it had to be done. There wasn’t a known cure as of now and all she knew was that the people in this castle were now in more danger than ever. She wasn’t about to lose another one to this... Without wasting another second, she swished her wand through the air, “AVADA KEDAVRA” She spoke clearly, though tears pricked at her eyes again as the green shimmering light left the tip of her wand and hit the boy square in the chest. It was quick, the boy was sent flying backward several feet away. She turned back to Minerva, eyes closed and shaking again herself. She never wanted to use that spell in her entire life. And here she was, using it on sick children...just because they hadn’t the resources to heal them. She felt disgusted with herself. McGonagall let out a breath of panic and wrapped Prue in a tight hug. She was about to tell her that she should have let her handle it when Minerva grabbed Prue’s shoulders and whisked her around to show her that same boy walking towards them again--a burn mark on his chest and his arm dislocated but still he ran at them. “How is that possible?” Prue asked, once again pushing McGonagall behind her. It was almost a strange turnabout, she could remember many times where she had been pushed behind McGonagall who shielded the young girl from danger...now it was she who shielded her Godmother from danger. She didn’t hesitate to stand in front of the woman who helped raise her and teach her so much of what she knows. Prue had so many questions but her main concern was, how to stop them if even the Killing Curse didn’t work? He even pushed through her freeze, which meant that group of shamblers from before were probably wandering about again as well. What a lovely thought that was. Again though, not a thought she had time to ponder just yet.   Prue froze him again, trying to give herself a few seconds at least to think of something. Before she could, her godmother was all but yanking her up the stairs to safety. “Wait!” she protested, being led back up the twisted staircase. “Hold on, I have to --” “We need a plan, Prudence.” Minerva said finally, in her usual determined tone. “The Killing Curse didn’t work. We need another plan. We can’t stand in front of them and make guesses until they’re on us. I won’t lose you to this, Prudence. I have watched you grow into such a strong, intelligent woman..A wonderful mother.. I am so proud of you, I want you to know. And you, my dear, have a family to get back to. We will plan accordingly and we will not be losing anyone else this day.” Prue’s jaw clenched so tightly, she might’ve pushed her own teeth out of her head as she tried not to tear up at those words. She wanted to hug the woman but she knew there wasn’t time. McGonagall pulled out a large, intricate map of the school and laid it across her desk, as they began mapping out routes and shortcuts, ins and outs, safe zones to clear and even potential quarantine zones. They hadn’t gotten exceedingly far when they heard growling across the room. Prue ears perked, attention snapping the the entryway. “Shit,” “Language.” “Er, sorry..he must’ve slipped past the bird and got carried up by the stairs.” “Damn,” Minerva whispered and Prue smirked. “Language,” she mimicked, though quickly turned back to the door when McGonagall shot her that signature McGonagall look.   The growling grew clearer as the boy came into view. “What now?” “I have one idea..If we can’t stop them with magic, we’ll have to get our hands a little dirty.” “What!?” Minerva grabbed the Sword of Gryffindor, smashing the glass wall of its home for the past ten years or so, and sent it through the air into Prue’s hands. “Are you crazy? I’m not using Godric Gryffindor’s sword to murder a child!” As she said that, the boy lunged at her, teeth snapping and limbs outstretched to grab her. A startled “Agh!” slipped from her mouth as she fell backwards, pushing the sword up as she did, feeling it pierce something as she hit the ground hard. The sword penetrated the boy’s chin up through the top of his head; his body now limp, teeth stopped gnashing and his arms no longer reached for her...they just dangled at his sides over the witch as she struggled to hold the sword and dead weight any longer. She yanked the sword free from the boy’s skull and dropped it in front of her, shoving the boy off her legs with a noise of disgust. She had blood on her hands where it dropped from his chin down. She stared at them for a moment, unable to process what just happened. Oh God, her chest heaved as it began to sink in. “I just.. He’s...What have I done?” McGonagall rushed over to check on the both of them, to make sure that the boy would not get up again, and to make sure that Prue was alright. “No! I am not alright. I just.. killed a child. With a sword.. The Sword of my House...How.. I’m gonna be sick.” She leaned over her legs, shaking her hands as if to shake the blood off them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the floor, her forearms pressed against her head. “I’m so sorry.”  She felt Minerva’s arms around her, rocking the witch and shushing her to calm her. “It’s alright, Prudence. It’s alright. You didn’t kill anyone.” Prue shook her head. “I did..Yes, I did..” “No, you didn’t. Listen to me, Prue.” The younger witch was caught off guard by that, probably the intention, just as Prue hadn’t ever really formally called Minerva anything but Professor, McGonagall had only ever referred to Prue as Miss Halliwell or Prudence. She never used her nickname. When she knew she had her attention, McGonagall continued. “We’d been discussing it but we weren’t exactly sure before. I see now that we were correct in our evaluations. These people aren’t just sick, Prudence, they’ve already died and reanimated. They’re no longer themselves, you see, they come back differently. Violent.” “But... how can they .. necromancy?” McGonagall shook her head. “I don’t think so. This started with the muggles, dear. I think it’s a human disease. That’s why it affects us too. We are all still human, after all.” Prue inhaled deeply, looking at the body of the young boy on the floor beside them. He did look worse off than she’d ever seen even a sick person before... “So..if they’re..already dead, that must be why the Curse doesn’t work. You can’t kill what’s already dead.” “Precisely. That’s the moment I figured it out. When I had seen for myself that it wasn’t going to stop them.” “But then” she ran a fingertip over the hilt of the sword. “is this really it then? The only way? How can we.. isn’t there a cure or something?” Minerva sighed. “I shouldn’t think so. There is no cure for death, dear, you of all people know that. Even if there was, how much damage will the affected have suffered in the meantime? Maybe there is a way to prevent it..but I’m afraid, there doesn’t seem a viable way to reverse this. Not this one.” 

   “If all this is happening everywhere, I need to get back to Danny and my family as soon as possible. I can’t have them out there with these... What if they don’t know yet? What if they’re waiting for a cure or something? I’ll help you secure the castle, Aunt Minerva, I promise, but I need to get home sooner rather than later. Please help me do that.” “My dear, I want to get you back to that silly lion and daughter of yours as quickly as we possibly can, you have my word. We will do everything possible to get you back home.” Prue nodded, “This is my home too...I don’t want to see anything else happen to it..or to any of you.” She looked at her godmother, almost pleadingly as though silently begging her to stay alive. “Especially not you. Or Hagrid...” “Oh I don’t think you need to worry about Hagrid, he handles some of the most ferocious, dangerous creatures this side of the Forbidden Forest. You of anyone should know that he can handle himself. And I’ve lasted this long, I’ll go down with castle, don’t you worry.” “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” Then c’mon, let’s make it the safest place in Scotland again, hm? No more tears, for now, dear. Let’s get to work. Get you back home, shall we?” Prue nodded, sniffling and wiping her face with her forearm. “What’re we waiting for then? We’ve got a castle to secure. But um, I need to do something first. And also, we should probably bring Hagrid and Fang inside. I don’t think that hut is going to hold off a group of these shamblers when provoked.” McGonagall nodded, though she did ask what Prue needed to do. “I’ll be right back, don’t worry.”   She needed to see Professor Frye to be quite honest. The last thing she’d seen of her was a scared, agonized woman in pain being torn apart. She couldn’t leave her there.. Not like that. Not to be left like roadkill on a highway for more buzzards to come pick at. When Prue reached the bottom of the staircase once more, her heart stopped as she saw Professor Frye there, though not how she’d expected. Her eyes were completely glazed over, just as her attacker’s had been.. and her skin the same grey hue. She turned over and began crawling towards Prue, making those same gurgling sounds as the others. Guilt welled up inside the witch as she knelt down in front of Trinka. “I’m so sorry this happened, Trinka. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you..” She reached into her pocket to pull out the pocket knife her father gave her when she started her fourth year of Hogwarts. It had a triquetra engraved and her name scrolled across the handle. On the reverse side it said, “Believe in yourself. We do. Love Always, Dad.” She clicked it open, brows furrowed in hesitation. She didn’t want to do this, but she couldn’t leave the woman here like this. Not like this... So she flipped the knife blade down, jamming it into Trinka’s skull as she came closer.  

               “I’m so sorry..” 

[ to be continued... ]

[costheticbabe]

Bring Him Back

Peter Parker x Stark! Mutant! Reader

WARNING: POST INFINITY WAR, MAJOR INFINITY WAR SPOILERS DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVENT SEEN THE MOVIE YET.

Additional Warnings: Swearing, Gore(?), Death, General Angst And Sadness Yea-

Hi! This is my first time posting a fic and I probably never would have if it weren’t for the amazing support from @cosmetologynerd and @infamous-webhead thank you so much both of you!

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Thanos had returned to Earth. Damn it all if anyone knew why or how but here he was, walking down the decrepit Main Street of New York City like he owned the place. The Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, stood at the end of the street, ready to face off against the alien. One particular hero, a certain billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, couldn’t help but let his mind wander to a certain rebellious teen he hoped would stay put.

*3 hours ago*

“Dad!” You shrieked, standing from the couch, “You can’t be serious right now!”

“Sweetheart, we don’t know why he’s back, but I know I don’t want you down there.” Tony stood on the other side of the glass coffee table, Iron Man suit all shined up and ready to kick ass. You raked your hands through your hair, gripping your scalp as a frustrated exhale blew through your clenched teeth.

“Dad. That wrinkled, purple bastard killed my boyfriend. He killed half the universe with a snap. You know I can fight -that I’m a mutant- that’s why you gave me my own suit-!”

“I gave you that suit so that you could protect yourself, not throw yourself head first into danger (Y/n)-“

You stepped towards him, getting dangerously close to his face, “Same difference Dad! You already said we don’t know why he’s here, but his stupid donut ship is back and I don’t think he’s here for a friendly visit! Let me help! Let me fight! Let me-“

He stood toe to toe with you, easily a few inches taller, “Let you what? Lose control like Quill did? Let you get yourself killed because you make one little mistake? Let you try and get revenge on a thing that cannot be killed by any normal means? I don’t think so kid.” He stepped back and took a shaky breath, his hand going to the bridge of his nose. “I- I can’t lose you both ok? First I lost the kid, it’s a miracle I didn’t lose Pepper, I can’t lose you too, not when I have the option to protect you.”

He made eye contact with you then and you saw the fear in his eyes. Tony Stark was afraid. Of his death. Of your death. He was still tortured by Peter’s death just as much as you were. “Dad…” you reached out and held his hand, “I can protect myself, I promise you. I want to help you all, I want to-“ the ground shook and the facility wavered immensely.

“No. Final word.” Tony pulled away from his child and started walking backwards towards the exit. “You are on house arrest until this is settled or until you need to be evacuated with Pepper. Friday! You’re in charge!”

“Yes sir Mr. Stark.” The AI sounded as a panel of the window opened and Tony turned to face it. “I’ll be back. I love you both!” And he was gone.

Oh hell no. You headed towards the stairs down to the bunker. “Friday. Override Code: 050208.”

“Ma’am. Your father gave strict orders to stay here in the facility-“

You ran down the stairs, leaping down whole flights until you reached the door to where all the suits were stored. “Yea well that sucks. I’m going out and I’m helping him.”

“What should I tell your stepmother ma’am?”

You paused, your hand on the pad to start arming the suit. “Tell her the truth. That we love her and we went out to save the world. Again.” And you pressed down on the pad as the machinery started attaching to your body.

*Back to the Battlefield*

You had managed to follow your dad without being caught. The override code you used on Friday made her incapable of reporting your activities to your dad. It had been how you had managed to sneak Peter into your room all those night.

Peter.

You flinched and felt an aching rage swell up in your chest. From your position on top of an abandoned skyscraper you could see the very source of your suffering make his way towards your family.

It was silent, both sides staring each other down, waiting for the other to move.

Suddenly Thor gave a mighty cry and charged at Thanos, quickly followed by the others. The whole team managed to keep him relatively occupied but it was still a struggle. One by one Earth’s Mightiest were flung to the side like rag dolls, even Steve was tossed into a truck and fell will a thud. A roaring swelled in your ears when you saw Thanos swipe your father to the side, causing him to slam into a wall with a groan.

An animalistic cry ripped from your throat as you flew down from your post. Everyone looked up at the noise and you could make out the looks of shock and concern at seeing the smaller, sleeker iron mech suit come hurdling to the ground, blasters poised to strike.

Thanos himself looked up just in time to take a shot to the face. He cried out and took a step back, reeling from the unexpected blast. You landed in front of your dad, facing the alien.

“(Y/n)?” Tony coughed and you looked over your shoulder, not taking off your mask.

“Hey Dad. Told ya I could help.”

A deep chuckle rolled over the battlefield. “This is your kin Stark? She reminds me of my own daughter…” an almost regretful look came over his face and you sneered, not that he could see it.

You seethed with rage, shaky breaths escaping your mouth as you glared down your nose at Thanos. “You. You tried to kill my family.” You started to walk towards him slowly. “You killed my friends. You killed your own children. You killed my boyfriend!”

Thanos looked thoughtful for a moment, “Ah you must mean the young insect I fought with. No Little One, I granted him mercy.” He held open his arms and turned to the sky like he was expecting praise from the heavens.

“Mercy?” You hissed shrilly, “Is that what you call it? Murdering endless lives and ripping apart families without even a backwards thought? Mercy?!” The roaring got even louder and you clenched your jaw. “Let me show you some mercy then.” The whole team was on the ground panting and watching you, your father was silently begging you to leave now. There was a tree in a concrete planter next to you. Reaching over you held the trunk with two hands and ripped it up by the roots. “Let’s dance bitch.” You swung the tree at Thanos as he charged at you, sending him soaring into the air and hurdling into a park. You dropped the tree. “Hey Thor,” the God of Thunder looked at you from where he was picking himself up. “Can I borrow that new axe of yours? Just for a sec.” He raised his eyebrows and sighed shortly, “Sure why not! I’m interested to see what you can do with it.” You hefted up the axe, feeling it in your hands. Nice balance, should do nicely. “Be right back Dad. I love you.” You took off towards Thanos, the others hot on your trail.

You landed a couple yards from where he was sprawled in a crater and stared him down. Looking at him images of Peter rose up in your mind. He had kissed you goodbye that day, said he would be back with your dad and not to worry. Not to worry. Your face felt hot and tears welled under your irises. “You bastard!” Dropping the axe you ripped up a large pine tree and threw it like a javelin, landing directly on the purple alien. Another tree was ripped up as Thanos’ head arose from the branches and you slammed it down on the crown of his head with a cry. “Bring him back!” The two trees were ripped off and thrown into the pond with a crash. Thanos seethed with rage matching yours as you both stalked toward each other, you with Stormbreaker dragging behind you.

“Insolent child! How dare you step to a god-“ you swung the blunted end of the axe upwards clean into his jaw, sending him staggering back.

“Shut up! You took my happiness from me, you will give it back!” Another wide swing sent the axe into his calf with a sickening chop. “I’ll make you bring him back! You vile. Wicked. Thing!” With every word you swung wildly at Thanos. Tears almost blinded you but rage fueled you. Not all your swings landed, but enough made contact that he felt it. “Stupid! Purple! Thumb! Wrinkled! Old! Ballsack! You sick! Twisted! Rotten! GRAPE!” The last blow completely missed his head but came crashing down onto his foot with a crunch. With a pained yell he reached out and grabbed you by the head, lifting you up kicking and screaming curses. “You fucking bastard! Bring him back to me! Bring him back!” You cried like a wounded animal.

The others had arrived now, with Steve supporting Tony who was still winded from that crash earlier.

“(Y/n)!” He called, “You sick son of a bitch drop my daughter now or so help me-“

“Silence!” Thanos yelled. He lifted you up further until you could look him in the eyes through his large fingers. “You say I took your love? He and the rest who passed were a plague on all life, destined to be your downfall. It is unfortunate you suffer so, but it was for your betterment. No one suffers from starvation or poverty under my ruling. I returned to this planet to evaluate its recovery, only to find you all still sitting in wait to challenge me.” He looked past you at your family and scoffed before looking at you once more. “You’ve proven a worthy opponent Little One. I admire that. I could reunite you two once more if that is your wish.”

Your hands were tightly clenched above your head on his one hand holding your skull. The suit whined under the strain, both from your fingers pressing into his flesh and the helmet’s stress as he applied light force. You disengaged the face plate and looked at him with cold, (e/c) eyes. “You mean you can kill me.” You spat at him through his fingers. His silence served as an answer enough. “You don’t know mercy. You are no god. You are sick. You killed my heart that day and I swear to whatever is up there you will suffer worse than I have. Worse than anyone has because of you.” His grip tightened and you whined, a high pitched, drawn out whine as tears flowed freely down your face.

“You have just earned my respect Little One, do not throw it away so flippantly.”

You drew a shaking breath and spit at his face, the saliva lamely dropping to the ground directly below you. “Fuck your respect. I want Peter back.”

Thanos’ eyes narrowed and he applied even more pressure to your helmet. “No!” Tony cried out at your cries of pain and stumbled out of Steve’s grasp, staggering towards you. “Let her go Thanos! You have your victory, let her go!” You struggled to look at your dad from the corner of your vision and saw that same fear in his eyes. He was terrified in this moment, you had caused that and silently cursed yourself.

Thanos looked you directly in the eyes and you could barely make out the faintest of smiles through your tears. “You heard your daughter. She wants her love back, who am I to take that from her?” Tony called out your name as you cried for him as Thanos closed his fist with a sick crunch of metal and bone.

*

“…/n)? (Y/n) is that you? Can you hear me?”

Your eyes felt like they were on fire, like after you stared at your phone or TV too long and then blinked. With a groan you shifted and pried your eyes open, to be met with soft sunlight shining from behind a silhouette of curls above you.

“Wh-who…?” Damn, your throat felt like it had been scraped with sandpaper for 40 years. You tried to push yourself up on your arms but they seemed to have forgotten they were attached to a functioning body.

“Woah! Take- take it easy Girl Wonder!” Your eyes snapped to the figure that was holding you up by your back and met those soft brown eyes you cried about into your pillow all those nights.

Peter.

“You’re here! You’re back! He brought you back!” You broke down into wrenching sobs in a heartbeat, bringing your hands to either side of his perfect face and pulling him close to where you were nose to nose. “I can’t believe I got you back…” With your eyes closed you missed the pained look that came over Peter’s face as his hands found your arms.

“Yea…you found me again…" He wasn’t sure how he’d tell you where you all were, how he’d tell you that he wasn’t brought back, you were taken away. But as he helped you up and saw the happiness shining in your eyes, he knew he would protect you now, he owed Mr. Stark that much. Since he couldn’t bring you back.